Improvement and Redemption
by AdelleG
Summary: Fitzwilliam Darcy falls in love with Elizabeth Bennet only to learn that she despises him. Can he win her love, or will he continue to earn her scorn?
1. Chapter 1

It was a hot and humid summer in her hometown in Alabama, and Elizabeth Bennet was not excited to be home. She _had_ been, sure, when she arrived three weeks before. She loved her family to bits and pieces – eccentric though they certainly were. It was a pleasure to spend the entire summer with Jane, a comfort to see her father, and even mildly amusing to spend some time with her mother and younger sisters. But after three weeks, she began to feel what she had always felt about her hometown – it was boring. Dreadfully, intolerably boring.

Liz had hated the monotony of small-town life all her life, but moving to New York City had only made it worse. In New York, she saw the full diversity of life. There were shows, museums, restaurants. But the city's inhabitants fascinated her the most – what diversity of occupations, lifestyles, and aspirations! What a stark contrast to the population of her hometown, all of which – and really _all _of which – was involved in the same activities, aspiring to the same goals, working for the same corporation. God, how she hated Pemberley Corp! Was there a soul in Meryton, Alabama who was not connected to that company? Was there a single person in her inexorably boring hometown who was not eternally dependent on continual employment at Pemberley? Her own father was a head engineer there, and her mother had worshipped Pemberley Corp for as long as Liz could remember. It seemed to immutably occupy everyone's thoughts, and correspondingly invaded every attempt at civilized conversation.

And today was no exception.

"Pemberley had amazing profits last quarter, and Mr. Darcy is hosting a grand soiree next weekend! The whole town is talking of it. Of course, he couldn't invite _all _of his employees, but he did invite your father, girls – and the entire family!" Mrs. Bennet was blabbing excitedly, waving the invitation in her hand.

Liz cringed. Then she sighed, smiled, and attempted to take her part in the conversation.

"How is Mr. Darcy? Has his health improved?"

She remembered the heart attack that Mr. Darcy – the founder, owner, _and _CEO (yes, her town was truly boring!) of Pemberley Corp – had suffered during her previous summer vacation, and the commotion it had caused in all of Meryton.

Mrs. Bennet gave her a questioning look. "What do you mean, child? His health has always been superb." Then realization slowly dawned on her, and she added "oh, you meant _George _Darcy, didn't you? Why, he passed away four months ago – has nobody told you?" At this point, Mrs. Bennet's face expressed deep shock – how could it be that her daughter had not heart such monumental news? How could it be that _anyone _in Meryton had not been deeply affected by it?

"But you just mentioned that Mr. Darcy was hosting a party… Surely, it would be George Darcy…" Liz knew exactly what her mother had meant, and which Mr. Darcy she had referred to. But there was a part of Liz that simply refused to believe it.

"Oh Lizzie, it was Fitzwilliam Darcy that I spoke of! George Darcy's son, the new CEO of Pemberley."

All of a sudden, Lizzy's profound dislike for Pemberley Corp deepened. Fitzwilliam Darcy. She hated the man. No, not hated, the emotion she felt was closer to disgust – the way one would feel about a particularly annoying insect, about someone who was infuriating yet unworthy even of hate.

Fitzwilliam Darcy had lived in Meryton until he turned eighteen years old and departed for college. Liz's early memories portrayed him as a somewhat reserved, and incredibly haughty boy. He was George Darcy's son, and the adults in Meryton fawned over him. He was also undeniably gorgeous, and there was hardly a girl his age who was not madly in love with him and willing to give herself to him at his very first call.

Elizabeth was eight years younger than Fitzwilliam, and he had never noticed her. She, in turn, had at first regarded the older boy as an interesting subject to observe. The arrogant way he spoke to his father's employees, the smug manner in which he rejected the fawning girls, and the self-absorbed reserve with which he treated everyone else were at times almost entertaining. Yet by the time she turned nine, Liz began to realize the amount of pain that Fitzwilliam Darcy caused to those who attempted to ingratiate themselves in his favor. Lizzy was an intelligent child, and she did not fail to notice the tears shed by the older girls at her school. It was then that she began to regard him as an unpleasant nuisance, almost a parasite: someone who only took and never gave, and without whom the town would be altogether better off.

Yet it was two years later that her profound disgust and resentment for him were born. During sixth grade, Liz formed a deep, lively friendship with a neighbor's daughter, Charlotte Lucas. At fifteen, Charlotte was four years older than Liz, but Liz was a precocious child, and the two girls fast became the very best of friends. The girls played together at the playground, took long walks around the countryside, and spoke of their mutual interests in history and science. They were able to spend even more time together once the summer vacation came, and the two girls enrolled in swimming and gymnastics lessons together, and organized picnics for their friends.

It was then that Liz began to notice a subtle change in Charlotte's comportment. Charlotte had never been as cheerful and lively as Liz, but she was always a serene and happy girl. But by mid-July, Liz began to notice that Charlotte was quieter than normal, yet not calmer. Instead, the older girl turned pensive and restless. The furrowed brow, the fidgety fingers, and the occasional inattentiveness alerted Liz to the realization that there was something troubling her friend.

Liz observed her friend carefully for a week, and at last came to the disturbing conclusion that her friend's trouble was none other than Fitzwilliam Darcy. Fitzwilliam had come home to Meryton from college for the summer, and was his usual haughty, selfish, yet gorgeous self. Charlotte, at the impressionable age of fifteen, fell deeply for him. If it was not love, it was certainly a very strong infatuation. His long, muscular legs, his messy dark curls, the smug line of his perfect full lips – those were the things that caused her pensive look, her fidgety fingers, her complete inattention to everyone and everything else.

Fitzwilliam Darcy treated Charlotte Lucas as he had treated all other Meryton girls a few years younger than him. He gave her one or two condescending smiles (which she promptly mistook for loving looks), graced her with a few sarcastic compliments (which she gladly took for sincere attentions), and played along with her foolish infatuation for a few weeks (long enough for her to become completely absorbed with his presence). By early August, Fitzwilliam Darcy meant more to Charlotte than anything else. He had invaded her dreams, and indirectly controlled her very existence. Elizabeth tried her hardest to rescue her friend from the ruthless feelings of unrequited love. But not much can be done against the soft heart of a fifteen-year-old girl when it so freely opens to its very first love.

It was when Charlotte had completely lost herself in her love and shamelessly followed Fitzwilliam Darcy as a little puppy, offering all of herself and her young loving heart to him, that he finally broke the charade. It was what he always did in such cases; and it was the reason Lizzy grew to despise him so.

He mocked Charlotte. He openly scorned her, and for a few days made her the laughingstock of the little town – for a few days only, because within a week there was a new broken heart and a new girl mocked because of her foolish love for Fitzwilliam Darcy.

Liz watched her friend wither away after the sound rejection. Despite all of her best efforts, Liz could not help Charlotte. The older girl grew depressed and withdrawn. And even years later, when the pain was no longer there – when Charlotte grew to forgive Fitzwilliam Darcy, to forget the way he had hurt her, and to live her life with nonchalance – Charlotte Lucas was never quite the same. She was a healthy girl, with not a trace of the depression that plagued her for two months after Fitzwilliam's cruelty, but she became very cynical. She no longer believed in romance, only in comfort and security.

And Lizzy, too, was never quite the same. That summer, at the tender age of eleven, she learned what it meant to despite as deeply as she now despised Fitzwilliam Darcy.

And so it was that Liz's emotions at hearing that the new CEO of Pembeley Corporation – the man who was now in control of the lives of the entire town – was none other than the man she most disdained and despised in the world. She had disliked Pemberley before, simply because it was the _only _thing in Meryton that anyone ever spoke of, but she hated the company now.

"Isn't he a bit young to be in charge of Pemberley?" She asked only to say something. "I would not entrust such a large company, with so many jobs, to a man who has not yet shown that he is capable of leading it."

"Oh Lizzy," Mrs. Bennet passionately countered, "he is _quite _capable indeed! Pemberley has never seen such remarkable profits as in the quarter since he took over! I have heard that he takes the business quite seriously, spending all of his time tending to it." At this point Lizzy thought that that was most likely because he considered everything else in Metyron too far beneath him, but she refrained from voicing the comment, instead letting her mother continue her exuberant approbation of the young Mr. Darcy. "And he is young, to be sure. Amazing how someone so young and handsome can be such a glamorous businessman! A pity that he would never marry one of my daughters, for I cannot imagine a more magnificent son-in-law."

A pity indeed, Elizabeth thought with a sarcastic smirk. She remained silent, however, now regretting making any comment about him to begin with, and fervently hoping that her mother would switch to a more pleasant subject. Her wish was not granted, however, as Mrs. Bennet continued:

"I thought once that he asked you to dance, my Lizzy, but of course nothing came of it. No, no, Mr. Darcy is far too grand for any of us – even Jane's beauty is not enough to tempt him."

Lizzy cringed, recalling instantly the occasion to which her mother had just referred. It was precisely a year before, and Elizabeth was home for the summer after her first year of university. Fitzwilliam, too, was in Meryton because of his father's deteriorating health. For some inexplicable reason, he chose to grace with his presence one of the local parties, where he stood, brooding, in the corner, sweeping the room with an haughty gaze, and bitterly mocking the numerous girls attempting to induce him to dance.

Surrounded by a fleet of girls, twirling a glass of brandy in his hand, the monotony of Fitzwilliam's evening was suddenly broken when his haughty gaze met the most piercing set of eyes he had ever seen. The intensity of those two sparkling points was so strong that he involuntarily shivered, and it took him a moment to register that what he was looking at was a pair of very fine girl's eyes. Mesmerized by the ardor of feeling those eyes displayed (and, alas, unable to realize that that feeling was unabated despising), for several seconds Fitzwilliam was unable to pay attention to anything else. At last, he managed to lower his gaze to the mouth under the eyes, only to see it quirked in a disdainful smirk. He then took in the rest of the girl who had caught his attention: the long, flowing, curly chestnut hair; the ample yet delicate figure clad in a delightful purple dress; the long legs. She was undeniably a beauty, as evidenced by the considerable group of male admirers chatting animatedly around her (a group almost as large as the flock of fawning girls around himself!). She was gorgeous, and like nothing he had ever seen: the passion displayed by her eyes, and the disdainful smirk upon her lovely full lips was something Fitzwilliam Darcy had never encountered in his life before.

Fitzwilliam was drawn to this girl and walked unwaveringly towards her. Poor soul, he had never been scorned or rejected before; he had never seen a woman's eyes portray anything other than adoration. How could he divine the despising that Lizzy felt for him? Indeed, he could not. Instead, he walked assuredly towards his goal, through her parting male entourage, until he stood before her, and huskily asked her to dance with him.

Her response shocked him.

"Pardon me, Mr. Darcy, but I have no desire to dance. If I had, I would be doing so now, with one of my friends." The smirk on her lips deepened. "And _not _with a complete stranger whose acquaintance I have no desire to make," she added and quickly walked away. For a second, she had almost allowed herself to be flattered by the fact that he had singled her out. But she reminded herself that this was his usual attitude – to charm and to attract, then to discard. He had done this with countless girls before, many of whom he bedded, others (including Charlotte) not, but all of whom he hurt. So Elizabeth did the most sensible thing she could think of: she determinedly headed home, so as to avoid any future attention from him.

As if in a daze, Fitzwilliam followed her, out of the room, asking repeatedly: "Excuse me, what is your name? May I have the pleasure of knowing your name?"

She turned around, shook her head, entered her car, and drove away, leaving an awe-struck man on the sidewalk.

Elizabeth had not seen Fitzwilliam Darcy since, and she was now profoundly vexed. Vexed that her mother would bring up that incident, vexed that his name would be mentioned in her house at all – and above all vexed by the fact that he was now in charge of Pemberley Corporation, and hence in change of everything and everyone in Meryton. There was no escaping the disagreeable man. Thank God that in a little over two months, she would be back in New York!


	2. Chapter 2

It was a hot and humid summer in Meryton, Alabama, and Fitzwilliam Darcy was no more excited to be there than Elizabeth Bennet. He had despised Meryton all his life. He lived in Meryton from his birth until the age of eighteen, never quite understanding why his father would choose such a dreadfully _boring _place for the headquarters of his corporation. Now, at twenty-eight and as the new CEO of Pemberley, Fitzwilliam Darcy comprehended and appreciated the reasoning behind his father's decision: Meryton afforded the ideal headquarters. The tax rate was low, the labor was cheap, and the entire town was completely dependent on Pemberley for its well-being. What could be better conditions for a flourishing business? Yes, now Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy appreciated Meryton for what it was. But as a schoolboy, he absolutely abhorred the town. He felt that everything and everyone there was far beneath him. He saw the way the inhabitants of Meryton, Alabama fawned over his entire family; he observed the shallowness of this fawning, and grew resentful and cynical. He had absolutely no respect for his neighbors and classmates; he labeled them all as incompetent fawning fools, and never attempted to know anyone better.

By the time he reached high school, Fitzwilliam Darcy did his best to enjoy his position of power, and amused himself by playing with the town's girls' insincere affections. He viewed them as shallow, liking him only for his stellar good looks and monumental fortune, and he had no scruples about leading them on and then cruelly scorning them. It came easy to him, and was almost a hobby. All the girls were ready to sleep with him, a few were pretty enough for him to take them for a one-night-stand, but most did not even make it that far. By the time he left Meryton to attend Harvard University at the age of eighteen, Fitzwilliam Darcy was a fairly well-educated man eager to learn and to see, yet he was disturbingly haughty, reserved, and self-indulgent.

His years at Harvard passed pleasantly, and with a vigor he had never displayed before, Fitzwilliam immersed himself in his studies, taking in everything that the university had to offer, as if making up for the years he had wasted away in the boring town of Meryton, Alabama. After obtaining his undergraduate degree, Fitzwilliam insisted (much to his father's disapprobation) on traveling to England and pursuing his passion for philosophy at Oxford. After completing his PhD, he blissfully traveled through Europe, until his father's heart attack and the subsequent deteriorating health and death forced him to return to Meryton for good – to run the family company.

Resentful to be back in this boring hole of a town, Fitzwilliam Darcy took to the only activity he had to distract him, the management of Pemberley Corp, with a fanatical vigor. Within a quarter, he produced record profits, and was almost beginning to enjoy his new profession.

It was actually a pleasant, breezy day in late June, and Fitzwilliam did something he rarely did over the past few months – he went out of the office for lunch. As he enjoyed his stroll through Meryton's quiet streets, his eyes caught a sight of two young women chatting amicably at a quaint café. One of them he recognized immediately; the other was facing away from him, and he could only see her fantastic chestnut curls. With a slight smile, Fitzwilliam made his way towards the girls, happy to see his little sister.

Georgiana Darcy was enjoying an iced coffee with her new friend. They had met an hour earlier, when Georgiana stopped a pretty girl on the street to enquire about the location of Meryton's library. It turned out that the girl was walking there as well, and offered to walk Georgiana to the building.

"What a lovely town!" Georgiana exclaimed with a bright smile. The weather was nice, the street was filled with sunrays, and Georgiana's mood was equally bright.

The other girl smirked. "Truly? How long have you been here? A day, two at most, I would wager."

Georgiana faltered for a moment. "Actually, I was born here."

Her companion eyed her with a puzzled expression. "I cannot believe that anyone who has ever lived here could find this town anything but boring. I dare say you must have been away most of your life…"

Georgiana was surprised at the correctness of the girl's guess. "Well, yes," she admitted with a blush, "I have lived with my grandparents since I was six." She hesitated before elaborating, "since my mother died." At this, her companion attempted to express her condolences, but Georgiana quickly continued, "and I have been at boarding school since 14."

"I am sorry," was all her companion said, with a light comforting smile and a genuine expression of compassion in her eyes.

"I was fine." There was a brief silence, before Georgiana continued, stepping away from the uncomfortable subject: "Dut really, why do you find this town so unpleasant? I think it is quite lovely!"

"It is boring," the other girl replied simply. "Boring people, working boring jobs at a boring company." She added resentfully, "I hate Pemberley!"

At this, Georgiana cringed slightly, but quickly composed herself and replied: "I think it is quite nice that everyone works at the same place. People work together, live together, have fun together. It's so… cozy! Like one big family."

Seeing Georgiana's wistful smile, her companion realized that the image Georgiana was creating was that of a family she never had. Her companion felt a surge of compassion and warmth towards Georgiana, and exclaimed pleasantly:

"How silly of us, we never introduced ourselves! I am Elizabeth; Elizabeth Bennet. But please call me Lizzy," and she extended her hand in an offer of friendship.

"Georgiana," the other girl replied, and after a momentary uncomfortable silence, added: "Georgiana Graham." She was not sure what possessed her to pronounce this invented name; perhaps Lizzy's evident dislike of Pemberley made her apprehensive of proclaiming herself a Darcy.

"It is a pleasure meeting you, Georgiana," Elizabeth smiled widely, "and do you have a nickname too?"

"Oh yes," Georgiana flushed. "Please call me Giana."

The girls reached the library at this point, and went looking for their books. They quickly discovered that they shared an avid interest in European history, and fell into easy conversation. An hour later, they were comfortably seated in a quaint little café, passionately discussing Napoleonic Wars.

"Georgie!" Their pleasant conversation was interrupted by Fitzwilliam Darcy, who came to greet his sister.

"William! What takes you out of the office?" Georgiana smiled, stood, and pecked her brother on the cheek. "Let me introduce you to my new friend. Will, this is Elizabeth, Elizabeth, this is my brother Wi-"

She stopped abruptly, noticing the looks exchanged between her brother and her new friend. While William was looking at Lizzy with shock, Georgiana's knowing eyes detected that the shock was by no means unpleasant, and that there was something else in her brother's eyes – such intensity, such excitement. Lizzy, on the other hand, regarded William with what would best be described as horror.

"Elizabeth, it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance at last. I am honored to finally learn your name." William recovered his countenance first, and spoke with happiness in his voice and a seductive smirk on his lips. Elizabeth was surprised to notice a very slight British accent in his deep, velvety voice; undeniably a vestige of his time at Oxford.

Lizzy looked at him for a moment, then said simply, "Excuse me, it is getting late," and swiftly walked away.

William made a move to follow her, but was stopped by his sister's voice.

"Do you know her, Will?"

"No." There was a wistful note in his voice.

Georgiana smiled. "But you wish you did."

William looked at her for a long time, then slowly nodded his head.

"What is her full name?" He asked at last.

"Elizabeth Bennet. And I admire your taste, brother. She is quite enchanting. I have never had such lively conversation, not even at school." At this, she smiled at her brother, who took his leave shortly thereafter, to return to work.

Once he was back at his spacious office, Fitzwilliam Darcy could not stop thinking about Elizabeth Bennet. He had thought of her frequently over the past year, but back then it was thinking about a lovely girl with passionate eyes, smirking lips, and chestnut curls. Now he thought about _Elizabeth Bennet_. He finally knew her name; that was a start.

Fitzwilliam let out a frustrated sigh. Over the previous year, he never managed to understand why he was so captivated by the girl, and why the captivation lasted so long. He had never felt that way before, and it was unnerving. He tried telling himself that she was from _Meryton_, for God's self, and reminded himself of all the other Meryton girls, all of whom he could have any moment and none of whom he really wanted. He repeated that she was just like all the others, yet he could never believe it, not after seeing those eyes. She was gorgeous and passionate, captivating and enchanting. He had seen her only once, a year ago, yet he could not forget her; every once in a while, he desired desperately her presence, and hated himself ardently for that desire.

And now he finally learned her name. He saw her again, and she was just as lovely as the previous time. No, lovelier: the way she talked with his sister, the way she smiled, was simply irresistible.

Impulsively, Fitzwilliam entered the name Bennet into his system. He knew that everyone – absolutely _everyone _– in that little town was connected to Pemberley. And sure enough, he had a head engineer named Thomas Bennet. Fitzwilliam smiled, and scribbled down the home address displayed next to Mr. Bennet's name. He then remembered about the approaching soiree, and checked the list of invitees. His smile widened. Thomas Bennet had been invited, and had RSVPed his attendance along with six guests. Six! God, that's a large family. Yet she was one of the six – she must be. She would be there. Fitzwilliam Darcy let out a deep sigh of relief, and let himself drift into exquisite daydreams.


	3. Chapter 3

"I won't be going," Elizabeth stated flatly.

"But Lizzy," her mother exclaimed almost hysterically, "Mr. Darcy himself invited us all to come, and we have already RSVPed."

"First, I am sure that Mr. Darcy could not care less whether I, or any one of his 400 guests, will be there tonight. And second, if you intend on coming as a party of seven, than you could always take someone else from the town. I'm sure anyone would be _delighted_ to attend a soiree at Mr. _Darcy's_." She pronounced the last sentence with palpable sarcasm.

Mrs. Bennet let out an exasperated sigh and was about to continue her persuasion, when her husband cut in. "Lizzy, I would like you to be there." His words were simple and genuine; they softened Liz's resolve, but she would not give in quite that easily.

"Father, you know how much I dislike those types of events…" Suddenly, Liz felt a gentle touch around her waste, and someone's head rested softly on her shoulder.

Twirling around, she saw her sister, looking at her with sweet imploring eyes. "Please, Lizzy, I would be so much more at ease if you were there with me."

God, that really shook her resolve! But Elizabeth Bennet was not used to giving in quite so easily. "Jane, the rest of the family will be there. Papa, Mama, Mary, Kitty, and Lydia. Surely, you won't require my company."

"Oh Lizzy, you know how Mama gets sometimes. She might try to set me up with some Pemberley executive. I would feel so much better if you were there with me," Jane whispered while regarding her sister with rueful eyes. That was it. Elizabeth Bennet gave in.

"Very well. For you, Jane." She smiled. She looked up at her mother, and nodded her acquiescence.

"Excellent, now lets get going." And with that, Mrs. Bennet led her daughters to the shops, in search of the perfect attire for the following night's soiree.

Saturday night, the entire Bennet household was in uproar. Mrs. Bennet, Kitty, and Lydia were agitated about the glamorous soiree. Mary was equally excited, but attempted to hide it, lest it interfere with her image as the sophisticated, sensible, and perfectly accomplished young woman she yearned to portray herself as. Mr. Bennet was eager and apprehensive to attend an event at his new boss's home, noting that he was one of the select group of employees invited. Even Jane was quietly looking forward to the event.

Elizabeth wished she could share in her family's exuberance. But somehow, the idea of going to Fitzwilliam Darcy's house filled her with repulsion, and with something else: an unpleasant feeling of foreboding. She put on her deep green gown, pulled out the emerald stud earring that Mike had given her. 'Mike,' she thought almost wistfully, 'he was here with me last summer.' Suddenly, Elizabeth wished she had a boyfriend to bring home this summer. She sighed, put on the earrings, and went downstairs.

Fifteen minutes later, the entire Bennet family had gathered in the living room, and was ready to depart for the Darcy residence.

Stepping out of the car, Lizzy took in the grand mansion in front her. She had seen it numerous times before – it was, after all, the grandest house and the main attraction of her miserable hometown. But tonight it looked especially gorgeous. Illuminated with dozens of white candles, with soft sounds of music coming from inside the house, it had a fairy tale attraction to it. 'Show off,' Elizabeth thought bitterly. 'There is no reason for that man to make his house any more attractive than it already is. Everyone's already impressed by him far more than they should be.'

Once inside, Mrs. Bennet was immediately approached by Mrs. Longs and Mrs. Philips, some of her best friends and favorite gossip companions. Mr. Bennet fell into conversation with a colleague, Mr. Gardiner, and his pleasant wife. The girls remained together. Less than ten minutes had passed before the group was approached by the host himself.

"Oh my God! He's _gorgeous_!" Lydia was first to notice Mr. Darcy's approach.

"No kidding!" Kitty joined her sister's admiration. "Those are the nicest arms I've ever seen. And that hair, those eyes. God, I'm going to die!"

Fitzwilliam Darcy made sure to greet Mr. Bennet first, then turned to his wife with equal civility. It would be best to charm the family, he had decided, then work his way towards the daughter. Ah, the daughter! As soon as he noticed that she had arrived, he could not take his eyes off of her, and felt compelled to approach the family. She looked divide in that gown, the deep green complementing her chestnut hair and her hazel eyes. He would have been frustrated by his reaction to the sight of her, had he not been so distracted by his excitement. He had been dreaming of her sporadically for a year, erotic fantasies as well as chaste. Yet to be so immediately aroused by her was surprising. Perhaps it was the non-existence of his sex life over the past four months. Fitzwilliam Darcy was a passionate man, and was used to having his way. He sighed. 'God, she is divine!'

"He's talking to Papa," Lydia whispered excitedly. "Do you think we might be introduced? Will he ask one of us to dance?"

"I hope he does," Mary responded as evenly as she could with her present excitement. "I'm sure he would be the one man here as competent at waltzing as I am."

"Just to be in his arms would be enough…" Kitty sighed dreamily.

Elizabeth looked at her three younger sisters with apprehension. She knew all too well what Fitzwilliam Darcy was capable of, and the last thing she wanted was one of her sisters to fall pray to his games.

By that time, Fitzwilliam had exchanged a few pleasantries with Mr. and Mrs. Bennet, and politely asked to be introduced to their lovely daughters. Mrs. Bennet almost squeaked with excitement.

"This is our eldest, Jane." She paused for a moment to allow him to take in her eldest daughter's exceptional beauty, not realizing that Mr. Darcy's eyes were immutably fixed elsewhere. "This is our second, Elizabeth." Here a faint smile touched the corners of Mr. Darcy's eyes. "These is Mary and Kitty. And this is my youngest, Lydia."

"A pleasure." Fitzwilliam Darcy bowed gallantly, making the three youngest girls swoon. Even Jane felt charmed by the pleasant gentleman, and smiled graciously. She remembered all the impressions Liz had shared with with about the man, but could not help but doubt that such a gentlemanly person could be quite _so _bad.

Fitzwilliam now turned his full attention towards the girl he had been watching the entire time. "I have had the pleasure of meeting Elizabeth on Wednesday. I am most delighted to further the acquaintance."

Mrs. Bennet gave Lizzy a pointed stare, while Mr. Bennet regarded his daughter with a quizzical half-smile.

Fitzwilliam continued. "You look lovely tonight, Elizabeth. Would you do me the honor of dancing with me?"

"No," she answered flatly. Noting the disapproving looks of her family, she added, somewhat softer: "Excuse me, I do not wish to dance."

Fitzwilliam's composure darkened immediately, and he replied sarcastically: "And even if you did, you would rather dance with your friends than strangers whose acquaintance you do not wish to make?"

Elizabeth was momentarily unable to form a reply, stunned by his remembrance of the exact words she had uttered a year before. She had forgotten them herself, but as he pronounced them, there was no question as to what he was referring to.

Lydia took this as an opportunity to cut in, with a demure smile. "If Lizzy does not wish to dance, perhaps you could choose another partner? I would be quite willing, for example."

There was no question as to her meaning. Fitzwilliam wanted to refuse the young girl's offer of a dance, but remembered his resolution to charm the family, and remained polite, "Of course, Lydia. If you wish, I would be happy to dance with you. However, I would be _very _much obliged if Elizabeth did me the honor of the dinner dance." At this, he swept the family with such convincing puppy-eyes, that they began to implore Elizabeth to consent all at once.

Frustrated, Liz agreed, but her tone was so annoyed that it left no doubt to the fact that she took absolutely _no _pleasure in the prospect of dancing with him. She then turned away abruptly and went off in search of Charlotte. 'Who even thinks about dinner dances anymore?' She thought in exasperation. 'The notion is so dreadfully outdated. Why must he be so full of himself as to host an eighteenth century ball?' She had no idea, of course, that Fitzwilliam Darcy came up with the thought of a dinner dance only three days before, and instituted it for the sole purpose of claiming her hand for that dance and thus ensuring that she was thereafter seated next to him at dinner. It was either that or name cards.

"Lizzy!" Charlotte called. "How are you enjoying the party?"

"Not at all," Liz replied sourly. She threw a nervous look at Fitzwilliam dancing with Lydia. Her younger sister was positively melting in his strong arms. As for him, he displayed no real pleasure in dancing with her. This will not do.

Charlotte followed her gaze. "I see Lydia managed to secure a dance with Fitzwilliam Darcy. How… intriguing."

"Oh Charlotte! I don't like that at all. You know how he is."

"Come, come, Lizzy. It's been nine years since I had a crush on him. I'm sure he's matured as much as I have. I doubt he would hurt your sister, and there is surely no danger in a dance." Charlotte gave her a reassuring smile, and quickly changed the subject, asking about Lizzy's studies.

Lizzy talked about her progress at Columbia University excitedly, and then sternly asked, "But you, Charlotte, why are you back here? Surely, with a college degree you could be out of this God-forsaken town!" It saddened her that Charlotte, having completed her degree out of state at the University of California, San Diego, had come right back to Meryton, where she worked at Pemberley (of course, for there was no other employer in the damned town). She also harbored an irrational resentment that her best friend was now employed by the man who had so cruelly scorned her. True, Charlotte never had any direct contact with Fitzwilliam Darcy in her position as one of Pemberley's accountants. But she was nonetheless on his payroll, and he indirectly controlled her life.

"It's not so bad, Lizzy. You know all I ask for is comfort and security. And here I have both. I have a decent job, and I am near my family." Charlotte gave her a weak smile.

At this point, Lizzy was approached by Samuel, a boy she knew back from high school, who asked her to dance. Following an encouraging smile from Charlotte, Lizzy left her friend and joined the dance floor. She spent the remaining hour before dinner twirling in waltzes and tangos.

Liz had not noticed the approach of the dinner dance, and with it – of her imposing partner. Fitzwilliam Darcy joined her as soon as the music of the preceding dance had ended, bowed, and firmly took her hand. She had hardly opened her mouth to protest, before he smiled and said pleasantly in his velvety baritone, "Come now, Miss Bennet. I was promised the dinner dance, and I ask you not to deny me this immense pleasure now."

He put his free arm on her back and led her into a sensual tango. He finally had the dance he had been awaiting for the past hour! After dancing with Lydia, he had quickly excused himself from the Bennet family before Kitty had a chance to draw him into another dance, and made a round of the room, getting to know his employees.

He had not danced a single other dance, although there were numerous subtle and not so subtle propositions. The worst was undeniably Caroline Bingley, who had come to visit him with her brother and his college friend, Charles Bingley. Caroline had been pursuing Fitzwilliam Darcy for years, and because of his almost brotherly affection towards Charles, he could not scorn her as he had scorned other girls. Besides, she was not the young and impressionable Charlotte of nine years ago; Caroline was vicious and calculating. Perhaps that is why he never slept with her. For she was certainly beautiful. Not divinely gorgeous like Lizzy, but fashionably beautiful: thin, with luscious silicon breasts, long, shiny black hair, cool blue eyes, and top of the line designer clothes. She was a classical society woman, and considered herself the perfect companion for the wealthy Fitzwilliam Darcy. For his part, Mr. Darcy found her too shallow to be intriguing. And never spent even a night with her, despite all of her physical attributes.

Tonight, he was somewhat colder with her than usual: flatly refused to dance with her, excused himself, and continued getting to know his employees. Caroline was startled by his behavior, but had to content herself with discreetly following him around and making sure that she sat next to him at dinner.

She was surprised that he approached a pretty girl with long chestnut curls before the dinner dance. Caroline had seen Fitzwilliam dancing with a young girl (no more than a schoolgirl!) for the first dance, but she quickly understood that it was the girl who had initiated that dance. Fitzwilliam must have agreed out of mere politeness. While it was vexing that he had not done the same for her, and flatly refused her several invitations, she found no danger in his first dance partner. The second, however, was most unsettling. From what she could observe of their interaction, it appeared that Fitzwilliam was the one who wished to dance with the girl, while she looked almost annoyed at the prospect.

Fitzwilliam was delighted with his choice of dinner dance. Tango allowed him to place his hand much lower on her back, and to press his knees gently against hers, which sent a tingly sensation through his body and a surge of blood to his loin. He moved his mouth next to her ear, and whispered seductively: "You are divine, Elizabeth. But you know that; of course, you do. You know exactly what you are doing to me."

Liz made no response. Fitzwilliam felt an overwhelming desire to touch his lips to her soft ear, but restrained himself. There would be time for that later. She had not given him any encouragement yet, in fact, she seemed annoyed with him for some reason, and he did not wish to alienate her further.

The dance ended, and Fitzwilliam offered her his arm to proceed to dinner. Noticing that the rest of the guests focused inquiring gazes at them and waited for Fitzwilliam to lead the way to the dining parlor, she felt uncomfortable. She did not wish to be seen with this man. She knew all too well what he was, and she thought (albeit erroneously) that every sensible person in the room shared her opinion. It would not do to be seen on his arm, it would not do for others to think she was silly enough to be infatuated with this man! Little did she know that the only feelings their interactions incited in others were those of envy.

She looked at Fitzwilliam sternly, and said slowly. "Excuse me, Mr. Darcy, but I agreed only to the dance. I said nothing about dinner."

For a moment, Fitzwilliam was too startled to react. 'Why is she being so difficult? Why can't she just accept my attentions without the constant protest?' At last, he bowed very pleasantly, and answered, loud enough for the nearest guests to hear. "Miss Bennet, I have found the last dance positively delightful, and indeed have been mesmerizing by you the entire evening. Will you not do me the honor of walking with me to dinner?"

A murmur passed through the room. Seeing the awe in the other guests, Elizabeth felt too embarrassed to protest further. She wanted nothing more than to end this conversation with the despicable man, and answered sternly. "Very well, Mr. Darcy. I will do as you wish, but only to honor your position as the host." She nodded her head slightly, and reluctantly took his arm.

With a mischievous smile, he whispered, "And one more thing, Elizabeth."

She raised a questioning, apprehensive gaze at him.

"Please call me by my given name." He smiled.

"As you please, _Fitzwilliam_," she replied mockingly.

"I believe my sister introduced me as William," he corrected, and gently caressed her arm.

Dinner was not as unpleasant an affair as Elizabeth had expected. She was seated to William's left, but to her left was Jane, who had danced the last with Charles. On William's other side was Caroline, who had at least reached _this _goal for the evening, and next to her sat Greg, a pleasant young man who was also visiting his family for a summer away from university.

Lizzy chatted animatedly with Jane, and when Jane was occupied by Charles, she turned her attention to Greg. Caroline was attempting to draw William into conversation, but his attention was unwaveringly fixed on the girl to his left. He watched her gentle, sincere smiles when she talked with her sister, and felt a surge of warmth towards her. He then noticed a sweet, flirtatious smile grace her lips when she joked with Greg. William desperately wished to see that smile directed at him, but every time he spoke to her, whether it was joking or complimenting or attempting to hold a serious discussion, her countenance turned grave and unresponsive. William's jealousy grew as Liz and Greg passed from innocent joking to overt teasing, and he impulsively placed his left hand on her right thigh under the table.

He felt her body immediately stiffen at his touch, and noticed that she attempted to subtly extract herself from him. This irritated him further, and he began to move his hand slowly upwards, sensually stroking her leg.

Suddenly, Liz rose from the table, and unceremoniously walked over to her father. She whispered something in his ear, at which he looked at her sternly.

"Why should I do that, Lizzy?" William heard him say. "I think the seating is quite pleasant. You are with a lovely group of young people, and I am comfortably situated next to Mr. Gardiner here."

"I insist, Father," Lizzy replied unyieldingly. "If you do not wish to trade places with me, then I shall leave the dining parlor altogether."

Their conversation was beginning to turn heads, and, not wishing to cause further scandal, Mr. Bennet obliged his daughter and offered her his seat, whispering that he would speak with her later.

Realizing what she had done, Fitzwilliam felt incensed. She had scorned him: publicly scorned him. He had never been scorned before, and he knew not how to deal with the sensations of desperation and frustration he now felt. He looked around the table: at Greg who had flirted with Elizabeth, at Mr. Bennet who now took her seat, at the numerous guests who had witnessed his humiliation, at Elizabeth's daunting smirk, at Caroline's quizzical look on his right…

His eyes stopped on that last person, he smiled an insincere smile, leaned in, and – kissed her. He kissed Caroline. Even as his lips were touching her hungry ones, he wondered what possessed him to do so. He knew it was the combination of his jealousy, his desperation, and his indignation at being denied what he wanted for the first time in his life. Elizabeth's cold smirk hurt him, and he wanted to pay her back, to show her what it was like to be scorned, what it was like to be jealous. But the moment he touched Caroline's lips, he felt absolutely disgusted with himself. As if in a daze, he withdrew his lips, lifted his eyes, and saw Elizabeth standing up from the table.

Her motions were slow and dignified, without a trace of desperation that he had felt himself. Her eyes expressed no hurt, only deep disdain. He saw her force a smile on her face and excuse herself delicately from her neighbors. She then politely asked an attending servant to escort her out of the house. All eyes were on her, and her situation would be almost embarrassing – after all, she was leaving after the man who had taken her into the dining parlor just kissed another woman – but the dignity in her posture and the calm expression on her face made it impossible for anyone to scorn her or to feel anything short of respect for her. As she passed by his end of the table, Fitzwilliam was further mortified when he noticed Greg stand up and whisper something into her ear. She smiled gracefully in return, and answered him. Upon seeing Greg pull out his mobile, Fitzwilliam bitterly realized that the young man had just obtained her precious phone number.

Fitzwilliam watched her leave with a sinking sensation. 'God, what have I done?' He wished desperately to follow her, to somehow make things right. Yet he knew he couldn't. She would not even look at him. She had clearly disliked him before, he knew not why, but now she had real reason to despise him. He made a fool out of himself. Suddenly, everything he had planned for the evening went crushing down. His attempts to befriend her family and to charm Elizabeth, to be polite and attentive – everything was for naught. Instead, he did the absolute stupidest thing he could have possibly done. Out of resentment and hurt, he unceremoniously invaded Elizabeth's personal space, and upon her rejection, he kissed Caroline Bingley. He kissed _Caroline Bingley_! God, how could he?! Fitzwilliam looked to his left to see an unusually stern look from his head engineer, and to his right to see a disgustingly sweet and self-satisfied smile from the excuse of a woman he had just kissed. Further along, he saw the surprise in Charles's eyes, and the questioning looks of the rest of his guests. Unable to bear the awkwardness of his situation any longer, Fitzwilliam Darcy, the epitome of refined manners and self-possession, quickly excused himself and rudely left his four hundred guests to their own devices.

'Stupid, stupid man!' Fitzwilliam bitterly chastised himself. 'How can I win her now? What must she think of me? Oh God, no matter what she thinks, it can be no worse than I deserve!'

He heard footsteps approach him, as he leaned desolately over the rail of his balcony. Surprised that anyone would walk through his private chambers, he turned around.

"Oh William, you shouldn't have left," Caroline cooed coming closer to him. "I know she was rude to run off like that, but frankly, who cares? You shouldn't let the rude manners of a petty Meryton girl discomfort you so." At this, she extended her arms towards him and, taking a step closer, was about to enclose him in an embrace.

Fitzwilliam pushed her aside abruptly. "Do _not _call her that!" He was surprised by the volume and ardor of his own voice. "She is anything but petty! And rude? Oh God, it was I who was insufferably rude; and I am heartily ashamed of myself."

"Oh William," Caroline did not seem discouraged by his harsh manner. He had kissed her, after all. He had _kissed _her! "You left after she made a scene, surely there was no rudeness to it. Your guests cannot expect anything else, the unrefined country nobodies that they are, after one of them makes a scene."

Fitzwilliam drew a calming breath. "I was not referring to my departure, Caroline, although you are correct in pointing that out. I shall make amends to the rest of my guests, as well as to Elizabeth."

"To Elizabeth? Whatever for?" Caroline cried as a surge of panic came over her.

"I acted as a fool, a jealous, bitter fool. I know not if she can ever forgive or trust me again, but by God I will do everything I can to earn her acceptance!" He paused for a moment, the passion of his own words sinking into his now determined and almost hopeful heart. At last, he recalled that Caroline was still only a foot away from him, and added curtly, "I do not wish for your continued company at this point. Please depart."

Confused and enraged, she left his chambers. If he would be so cold towards her, then why ever would be kiss her? Surely, she could not simply be a means to incite Elizabeth's jealousy. No, no, that could not be.


	4. Chapter 4

By the time the rest of the Bennet household arrived home, Elizabeth had snuggled on the couch in her pajamas, with a copy of _War and Peace _in her hands. Hearing the commotion in the hallway, she thought of walking down to greet her family, but finally decided against it. She was not in the mood to discuss what had happened at the soiree.

Apparently, others did not share her opinion. "Elizabeth Claire Bennet!" She heard her mother's piercing voice. Resigned, Liz sighed, put her book down, and walked downstairs to meet her family. She immediately took in her mother's indignant look, her father's and Jane's concerned gazes, and the curious eyes of her younger sisters.

"What happened?" Mrs. Bennet cut straight to the matter.

"What do you mean, mother?" Elizabeth replied as calmly as she could.

"What happened with Mr. Darcy?" Mrs. Bennet was becoming increasingly irritated. "Why did you leave his side at the dinner table? Everything was going so well until then! And then he kissed that classy elegant girl instead! God, Lizzy, can't you do one thing right? Running away is _not _the right way to keep a man's attention!"

"There, there, Frances, that's quite enough," her husband interrupted her. "I'm sure Lizzy had her reasons for walking away from Mr. Darcy. Seeing his subsequent behavior, I dare say she was right." He patted Liz's shoulder reassuringly. "And now, I think we are all quite tired. It's certainly past _my _bedtime." With that, he swept the room with an expressive look, and the entire family dispersed.

"Lizzy," Lydia came up behind her as Liz was brushing her teeth. "Surely you'll tell _me _what happened with Mr. Darcy. God, he was so attentive to you it made me green with envy. Such a _gorgeous_ man! And then you left, and he – ew! – kissed Caroline Bingley, and I just don't understand anything…"

"Lydia, do not concern yourself with that. Lets go to bed." Liz clearly did not feel like talking about what had happened. Yet she looked at her sister's dreamy gaze, and apprehension renewed in her, leading her to speak. "Lydia, you don't know Mr. Darcy, but I do. I was only a child when he lived here, but I observed him carefully, and I know what he is capable of. He is ruthless, cruel. He attracts impressionable young girls and then scorns and hurts them."

Lydia was fifteen, and acted her age. She was unwilling to believe that the incredibly handsome man who had caught her fancy was anything short of perfect. "And how can you be so sure?" she asked spitefully.

Lizzy sighed. "I've seen him do it to a very dear friend of mine. Believe me, Lyddie," she implored, "it was painful to watch."

Lydia could not argue with such a heartfelt explanation. Instead, she decided that she would make the best of the situation and get what she had wanted. "So, what happened at the party?"

Releasing a heavy sigh, Lizzy answered: "He did not act entirely proper at the party, and I thought it best to leave his side. Seeing him make out with Caroline only confirmed my suspicions." She paused for a moment, and gave her sister a very earnest look. "Please, Lydia, be careful. And watch out for Kitty and Mary too. I don't want any of you to get hurt."

Lydia was flattered by the way her older sister asked her to watch out for her other siblings. She felt like she was being addressed as an adult: Lizzy had told her the truth, and seriously asked her to watch out for herself and her sisters. Lydia smiled and nodded. "I'll do my best. I promise you, Lizzy."

With that, the two girls wished each other goodnight, and went to bed.

The following morning, Lizzy was startled with the delivery of a magnificent bouquet of pink roses. The deliveryman insisted it was for her, and Lizzy felt no surprise at the knowledge. She was beautiful, and fully aware of it. She was used to receiving presents, and largely enjoyed them. Yet this particular bouquet caused her to frown. While there were several young men in Meryton who could send her flowers, the bouquet was clearly expensive, and for some unknown reason she suspected that it might have been sent by the one man from whom she wished to receive no presents.

'Calm down,' she told herself with irritation. 'There is no reason for him to send you anything. You scorned him and he kissed another woman, for God's sake! There can be nothing further between you.' Calming herself, Lizzy looked for a note. She found one hidden in the brilliant bow around the vase.

To Lizzy's chagrin, the note read simply: "I have behaved despicably, and am sincerely sorry. I can only hope that you might begin to forgive me. Forever yours," Instead of a signature, the author had written "whatever you wish to call me."

Lizzy cringed. There was no question about the sender of the roses. It was Fitzwilliam Darcy, and she was incensed at the audacity of that man. 'How dare he! How dare he address _anything _to me after what he has done! How dare he say he is forever mine, when all he is doing is playing his ruthless game with me? When all he wants is to seduce and to shun me? But that shall never be. I detest the stupid man.'

Glad that her parents had gone grocery shopping for the morning and that she would be spared her mother's inquiries, Elizabeth took the bouquet, stepped outside, and soundly threw it into the garbage bin.

'There, now no one will know about it. Mama and Papa are out shopping; Mary is upstairs reading; Kitty and Lydia are still asleep. No one will know, except Jane.' She glanced at her sister standing in the entryway and regarding her with a peculiar expression.

"They were beautiful flowers, Lizzy," Jane said softly.

"From a repulsive man," Lizzy replied bitterly.

"Oh Lizzy, I know that what he did last night was despicable, but I am sure he had a reason for it. He cannot be so bad. I think he was very hurt when you moved, and it was his pain that caused him to kiss Caroline. Of course, it was wrong of him to flirt with you and then kiss another woman, but he cannot be _that _bad. Oh Lizzy, I don't know what to think!" She ended exasperatedly.

Lizzy smiled at her older sister. "Dearest Jane, you are too good. You can never think fully ill of anyone. But on this point, there can be no doubts. Fitzwilliam Darcy is the worst of men, and let us think no more of him." She took Jane's hand and proposed a stroll through the park. Delighted, Jane agreed, and the two girls passed a very pleasant morning together.

Just as they prepared to return home, their conversation was interrupted by a loud, merry shout. "Lizzy!" At hearing the bright, sweet voice that called out her name, Elizabeth turned and was surprised to find a smiling young girl rushing towards her.

Liz's brows furrowed slightly, as she remembered her previous meeting with the girl: the pleasant afternoon she spent with Georgiana Graham a few days before, only to discover that her real name was Georgiana _Darcy_, sister to the infamous Fitzwilliam Darcy. Elizabeth could not make up her mind about the girl. She was vexed that Giana had lied to her, and had been irrationally upset at Giana for introducing her to the despicable man. At the same time, Liz felt ashamed of the unceremonious way in which she had left Giana that afternoon – literally running away. At last, Liz could not help but return the genuine bright smile on Giana's face. This girl was so simple, so sweet, so innocent, that it was impossible not to like her. What a stark contrast with her disgusting brother!

"Giana! It's so nice to see you again." Liz smiled and hugged the girl. "This is my sister, Jane," she introduced warmly. "Jane, this is my friend Georgiana Darcy."

Jane slightly raised an eyebrow, regarding her sister with an expression of surprise, then turned to the girl and smiled broadly. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Georgiana."

"Please call me Giana," the girl replied, extending her hand.

After the greeting pleasantries were exchanged, Giana addressed Elizabeth with concern. "You left so suddenly last time. I was so worried; I hope everything is alright."

Lizzy blushed. "Yes, everything is fine. I'm sorry about running off like that." She frowned. "But Giana, why didn't you tell me your real name?"

Now it was Georgiana's turn to blush. "You spoke so critically of Pemberley… and I really liked you. I didn't want to lose your friendship, so I was afraid of telling you I was a Darcy," the girl finished sheepishly.

"Oh Giana!" Liz exclaimed warmly, touched by the girl's insecurity. "I really liked you too, and no heritage of yours could have made me turn away from your friendship."

"And yet you did," Giana said darkly. "You ran off as soon as you saw that I was Fitzwilliam Darcy's sister."

Lizzy sighed. "It was not that. It's just… Oh, Giana, it's nothing of consequence! I just didn't expect to see Fitzwilliam, and I was confused, that is all." Liz decided not to tell Giana of her profound dislike of the girl's brother. She saw the softness and innocence in Giana's manner, and was certain that the girl knew little of the darker ways of the world, and absolutely nothing of her own brother's despondency.

Giana sighed. "Well, at least we met again. We didn't even trade phone numbers last time. I was afraid I'd never see you again. I even wished I could attend that dreadful party of Fitzwilliam's hoping I would see you there. But I had already made plans to visit my aunt yesterday."

Elizabeth could not help but be glad at the fortuitous turn of events. She was mortified to think of the discomfort the lovely girl would feel at seeing her brother's abominable behavior at the soiree. But then, on the other hand, she mused wistfully, perhaps he wouldn't have behaved quite so inconsiderately if his innocent little sister were nearby. Wouldn't that have been nice…

The girls exchanged numbers, and Georgiana went to meet her brother for lunch, while Jane and Elizabeth cheerfully made their way home.

None of the three girls had known that the illustrious Fitzwilliam Darcy was in the same park, only a few hundred feet away, desperately trying to get away from Caroline Bingley's grip.

He had received a message that morning from Charles's persona phone, asking for a private meeting in the park. While Fitzwilliam was stunned by the unexpected request, he was fond of Charles, and worried that something had happened to his friend to cause him to request such a mysterious meeting. And so Fitzwilliam Darcy agreed, and patiently awaited his friend on a bench in the park at the appointed time of eleven thirty. This would give them half an hour to talk before his lunch with Georgiana, who had just returned to town that morning, and whom he had not yet had a chance to see, since he had a few affairs to take care of in the office, disregarding the fact that it was a lovely, bright Sunday.

Great was his surprise when instead of Charles, he was approached by the other Bingley sibling. Caroline was sporting a bright orange sundress, which revealed more of her smooth silicon-enhanced breasts than he ever wished to behold, a pair of dark red heels, matching the large red-framed sunglasses on her spotless, heavily made-up face, and a large orange Hermes handbag. Fitzwilliam was not a fan of orange, and much less a fan of Caroline Bingley. But even he had to admit that she looked attractive and fairly classy, in a flat sort of way.

He frowned when she sat on the bench next to him, and remained broodingly silent. Caroline pretended not to notice.

"Oh William, what a lovely day it is, don't you think? And so lovely to sit here together," she put her hand lightly on his right thigh.

He firmly grabbed her wrist, and deposited her hand into her own lap. "Caroline," he said at last, attempting to restrain his anger. The weather was indeed nice, and since it was Sunday, the small park was filled with people. It would not do to draw too much attention to himself, and to create yet another scandal involving Fitzwilliam Darcy. He was, after all, only too painfully aware of the fact that the only thing discussed in Meryton that morning was his behavior the night before. "I came here to meet with Charles, and not with you. If he had no intention of meeting me, then I must be going." He rose from the bend and made to leave

"Oh," she said, feigning surprise, and at the same time grabbing his right arm to ensure that he could not escape. "Did I use Charles's phone to text you? Oh God, I didn't realize! You know, we have identical models…"

"Caroline, cut it out," Fitzwilliam said sternly. "You can't fool me. I _know _that you used Charles's phone on purpose. You are not completely stupid, Caroline, and I'm sure you were fully aware that pretending to be Charles was the _only _way you could get a private meeting with me."

"William," Caroline whined, seeing that he had seen through her act, and changing tactics. "Why are you being so mean to me?" At this she made a pout that she was sure looked seductive. Fitzwilliam shuddered.

"I am simply being reasonable, Caroline. You draw me from business with a lie, pretending to be your brother. And now you are not letting me return to more important affairs than this useless conversation," he glanced expressively at her clutch on his arm.

"I… well… William, can't we talk?" He did not answer, only continued frowning, which she mistakenly took for encouragement. "William, that kiss last night, it was so… it felt so… right. I've been thinking –"

"Caroline, stop," he cut her off. "I am sorry that I kissed you, and I am doubly sorry if it gave you any wrong impression. I was not thinking rationally."

"Then why did you do it at all?" Caroline spat out.

He regarded her ruefully. "I guess I am one of those people who act foolishly when they're in love."

"In love?!" Her eyes widened. She took a deep breath to calm herself, then continued more evenly. "And who, pray tell me, is the object of that love?"

"Miss Elizabeth Bennet," he said softly, and a hint of a smile tugged at the corners of his lips.

"That little trollop? The gold-digging little whore?" Caroline's voice trembled with anger.

"What?" Fitzwilliam was too stunned by her words to say anything more, his face gradually darkening with his deep anger.

"Oh come on, William! She's a nobody… a little Meryton slut." She smirked, then added acidly, "So when am I to wish you joy?"

William regarded her incredulously. "A society woman's imagination is far too wild. It jumps from love to marriage in a matter of seconds," he said sardonically.

Caroline suppressed a sigh of relief. "So you don't intend to marry her?" Perhaps this was just a passing fancy, she thought. Perhaps Fitzwilliam wanted nothing more than to sleep with the little wench. That Caroline could live with; she did not require Fitzwilliam's faithfulness or even his love. His wealth would be quite enough.

"If it were up to me," he answered wistfully, "I would like nothing better than to make Elizabeth my wife."

"Well then," Caroline answered coldly, seeing all of her hopes crushed mercilessly, "perhaps my imagination is not so wild after all."

Fitzwilliam let out a rueful chuckle. "The fact that I would like to spend the rest of my life with Elizabeth is no guarantee that I actually will. Remember, Caroline, it takes two to enter a marriage."

As his meaning sank in, Caroline's brow knitted in confusion. "You don't mean to say that you think she'd reject you? Come on, William, who in _Meryton _would ever reject you? They all worship you, understanding as they well should, that they are nothing to you – nothing to _us_! She is a small-town nobody like everyone else here. The little gold-digging whore would be only too glad to snatch up Pemberley's CEO. Reject you – ha ha! She'd jump on the chance, knowing that she's not worth you."

"You are wrong, madam. She has already rejected me once," Fitzwilliam answered coldly, wishing to end the unpleasant conversation. Seeing the blank impression on Caroline's face, he added, "I made the unforgivable mistake of taking a liberty with her, of placing my hand on her thigh at the dinner table. I was a fool, and did not realize that not only did she not desire my attentions, but that by invading her privacy, I would only push her further away. When she scorned me by taking her father's seat, I was an even greater fool to try and boost my self-esteem by kissing a woman I felt _nothing _towards." At this, he quickly extracted his arm from Caroline's fingers, and with a curt "Goodbye, Caroline," began to walk away.

After a few steps, he turned back towards the stunned woman next to the bench, and added icily" "And if I hear you call her anything unflattering _ever _again, I promise you that you'll regret it."


	5. Chapter 5

Upon her and Jane's return, Lizzy was surprised to find her ill-liked roses recovered from the garbage bin and restored to all their glory on the kitchen table. Apparently, she owed her bad fortune to the garbage collector, who, upon noticing such an exquisite bouquet, could not bring himself to collect it with the rest of the trash. He was about to take it home to his wife, when his conscience made him approach the house and ask its inhabitants whether they had really intended to throw away the flowers. To this, the surprised Mrs. Bennet replied in decided negative, and swiftly took the flowers away from him.

As the girls stepped back inside, they were greeted by their mother's loud voice. "Jane, Elizabeth! Look at the bouquet I have uncovered from our garbage can! You wouldn't know where it comes from, would you?"

The two girls exchanged knowing glances and shook their heads no.

"I was hoping it was a secret admirer of yours, Jane, that you had caught the fancy of some rich man who would shower you with such flowers, and hadn't told me, you sly thing. But I guess not. Perhaps it was someone else that simply threw the bouquet in our garbage can," she finished ruefully.

Elizabeth was grateful that Fitzwilliam had at least had enough sense not to put either of their names on the note. She sighed with relief and went to her room to do some reading.

It was four o'clock when another bouquet came to the Bennet household. This time, the roses were yellow with orange fringes. Mrs. Bennet was the one to open the door and receive the flowers, and she hungrily reached for the note attached to the bow, knowing now that one of her daughters, probably Jane, was beautiful enough to make a wealthy man (for he was clearly wealthy, buying such expensive flowers and sending them with personal messengers at various hours of the day!) fall hopelessly in love with her, and sly enough not to let anyone know.

The note was too cryptic for Mrs. Bennet's taste: "I know it is too forward of me, but I can no longer bare your silence. Please forgive my forwardness, and allow me to beg for the honor of your company at dinner tonight. Forever your humble servant." Too cryptic, certainly, but so dreadfully full of most ardent love! Even though the note was not directed at her, Mrs. Bennet could not help but swoon. Then she grinned broadly at the thought of how glamorous a suitor Jane must have caught. Her only dissatisfaction stemmed from not knowing who the man was, but that could soon be cleared up: for below the note, the author had written a phone number. He must have left it there for Jane to call him back and schedule the dinner. What a subtle, discreet young man. He certainly fit her Jane, that sly thing – not telling anything to her mother!

Without thinking, Mrs. Bennet picked up the phone and dialed the number on the note.

"Hello," replied a deep, velvety male voice with a hint of a British accent. 'What a gorgeous voice!' Mrs. Bennet thought. 'And why does it sound familiar?'

"Cameron?" She pronounced the first name that came to mind, in hope of finding the gentleman's true identity.

"I am sorry, I'm afraid you have the wrong number," the man replied patiently but firmly.

"Oh, I'm so sorry, sir! And may I know who this is?"

"This is Fitzwilliam Darcy. Good day, madam."

"Wait!" Mrs. Bennet's mind was reeling. Fitzwilliam Darcy was sending flowers to her house?! She remembered his interactions with Lizzy the night before: his attentions, her flight from him, and his kiss with Caroline Bingley. She was now utterly confused. Was he still interested in her Lizzy? He was her husband's boss, and by far the wealthiest man in Meryton – God, in the whole state! To think that he was the lovesick puppy begging for her daughter's affection was too much. "I… uh… I mean…" she stammered. Sensing the impatient breathing on the other side of the line, she spat out quickly: "I have just received your bouquet, Mr. Darcy. I assume you would like to dine with one of my daughters."

"Mrs. Bennet!" He exclaimed, his voice suddenly brightening. "Yes, I would very much appreciate the pleasure of dining with Elizabeth at the Madelena tonight."

'Madelena!' Mrs. Bennet's eyes widened at the mention of the most expensive restaurant in the nearby city of Netherfield. While not a large city by any means, Netherfield was far larger and wealthier than the little Meryton, and included several fine restaurants. "Why, of course, Mr. Darcy. What time should she meet you, sir?"

Mr. Darcy hesitated before answering quietly, "Mrs. Bennet, I think that should be up to Elizabeth, as should be everything else. I have asked for her acceptance, but I by no means expect it. I… I do not wish to be presumptuous. Please, let Elizabeth talk to me instead." Fitzwilliam Darcy congratulated himself on his well-articulated response. Even thought he _was _expecting Elizabeth's acceptance (he had not yet gotten accustomed to being denied his desires), it would not do to appear presuming to her.

Mrs. Bennet was touched by the humbleness of Pemberley's CEO. He must be really in love with her Lizzy. For a moment, the memory of his lips united with those of Caroline Bingley came to her mind, but she dismissed it immediately. Instead, she answered: "Of course, sir. I will let Lizzy know about your present, and she will call you back, sir."

After saying her goodbyes and thanking him profusely for entertaining them the night before and for paying such generous attentions to her daughter, Mrs. Bennet went in search of Elizabeth.

"Lizzy! Lizzy, you sly thing, you never told me the bouquet this morning was from Mr. Darcy! And to throw it out – what follishness!"

Lizzy regarded her mother with surprise. Mrs. Bennet had never been especially astute, and her daughter was amazed at her ability to guess the identity of the sender of the morning's mysterious bouquet. "How did you know?" Lizzy asked quietly.

"He sent another bouquet. Oh, such an attentive lover! He wrote such a passionate note, and left a phone number, so I called and found out who he was," Mrs. Bennet finished sheepishly.

"You did what?!" Lizzy screamed, and rushed downstairs to study her new bouquet and the accompanying note. She then grabbed the entire vase and made her way towards the trashcan.

"Young lady, _what _are you doing?!" Her mother enquired loudly. "Put that bouquet down, and call Mr. Darcy back. He needs to know when to pick you up for dinner."

At this, Elizabeth put down the flowers, and simply laughed, for a long time. At last she stopped, and noting her mother's quizzical look, said calmly: "I am not dining with him."

"Oh yes you are, Elizabeth Claire! You are going to Madelena tonight, and I will not hear otherwise!"

Her mother's firm tone perturbed her. Thinking for a moment, Elizabeth came up with a brilliant solution. "Very well, mother, will you be content if I consent to dine at Madelena tonight?"

Mrs. Bennet smiled. "That's my girl."

Elizabeth returned her smile with a brilliant one of her own, took the note, and reached for the phone.

"Hello?" she shivered at hearing his enchanting voice. Talking to him was something she would rather never do again, but she had to proceed with her cheeky plan to scorn Fitzwilliam Darcy and trick her mother at the same time.

"Good afternoon. This is Elizabeth Bennet." Her voice was even and emotionless, yet it was enough to send a pleasant shiver through his body.

"Elizabeth… Miss Bennet…" He felt unusually flustered. "Thank you so much for calling me."

"You are welcome, Mr. Darcy. I would like to let you know that, upon insistence from my mother, I shall consent to dine at Madelena tonight, at the same time as you."

His heartbeat increased at her words. She was accepting his invitation! She was about to eat with him! True, her acceptance sounded forced and not at all happy, but she was accepting nonetheless. Fitzwilliam was elated with anticipation of seeing her again, of speaking to her, of making things up to her and to earning her forgiveness and her trust. Her next words struck him, as if a bucket of ice-cold water was ruthlessly poured over his back.

"I have some conditions, however, Mr. Darcy. I would like to dine with a friend, and although I understand that you will be at the restaurant at the same time, I would like to request a separate table. I do _not _wish to speak to you tonight, nor, of course, to have any physical contact."

Yet no bucket of ice water could be quite as cold or as icy as her tone when she said those words. Dejected, desperate, Fitzwilliam could only muster, "Of course, Elizabeth. Whatever you wish." He then added meekly, "What time would you like to dine then?"

"Seven o'clock would be most agreeable," she responded, and with a curt "Good bye, sir," she hung up the phone. She had no doubt that he would be able to obtain a reservation for any time she requested, and was prepared to arrive at Madelena at seven o'clock.

Now the only question was the friend she proclaimed she would bring with her. Lizzy briefly considered bringing Charlotte, but she was too protective of her dear friend to bring her anywhere near the despicable Fitzwilliam Darcy. Lizzy then remembered the pleasant phone call she had received from Greg earlier in the day, and with a mischievous smirk, dialed his number. That would be the perfect punishment for Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy. She would bring another man, a man who had incited Mr. Darcy's jealousy the night before. She would chat pleasantly with that other man, with whom she was by no means averse to beginning a tentative relationship, while Mr. Darcy would be forced to watch from a separate table.

Oh yes, that would be perfect indeed. Suddenly, Lizzy felt exhilarated in her revenge. She realized that somehow, she was doing to Fitzwilliam Darcy what he had done to countless young girls. She had him in her power and was mercilessly scorning him. Yes, at this point, she was sure that she _did _have him in her power, that it was not just a game on his side. The insistent, begging tone of his notes, and above all the meek answers he gave over the phone to her obnoxious demands, proved that the man was very much infatuated with her. His attentions the night had before been sincere, his impropriety in grabbing her thigh had been nothing more than an irrational fit of jealousy, and even his kiss with Caroline Bingley had been simply a desperate measure of a scorned and pained man. And while his infatuation lasted, Lizzy intended to show him as much as possible of the pain he had once inflicted on her best friend and too many others.

The image of Georgiana Darcy's sweet and pleasant face momentarily appeared in Elizabeth's imagination, and was followed by an acute tinge of guilt searing through her chest .The girl was undeniably gentle and innocent. She shared none of her brother's arrogance or self-indulgence. Giana was a kind girl, and Lizzy liked her. The thought that Fitzwilliam's pain would invariably be shared by his caring sister, as well as the realization that her bitter revenge upon the man may well cost her the lovely girl's friendship, momentarily shook Lizzy's resolve. But she reminded herself of all the pain that Fitzwilliam had caused to other girls – girls as sweet and innocent as Giana. Indeed, the goodness of the sister is no redemption for the brother. Fitzwilliam Darcy had to be taught a lesson, and that lesson would never pain Georgiana Darcy as much as the despicable man had pained dear Charlotte.

And so, gathering all of her determination, Lizzy whispered with passion: 'Oh Charlotte, I shall avenge you at last!'


	6. Chapter 6

Fitzwilliam Darcy could not believe the preposterousness of Elizabeth's demands, but what shocked him most was his own meek acquiescence. A part of him screamed in repulsion. _'How can you agree to that, man? How can you let her trample all over you in such a manner?! To take her out to dinner while sitting at a separate table – to allow her to bring a friend, undoubtedly a male friend,'_ he thought bitterly, _'and to be reduced to the humiliating part of an outside observer?'_ Yet he understood that it was the only way to secure her attendance at Madelena for the evening, and the only way to earn her trust and to induce her to consent to see him again. He sighed. _'At least it would allow me to see her, to be near her. And perhaps if I behave myself for the evening, she will begin to trust me. Perhaps when she sees the pain she has caused me, and how desperately I have grown to love her, she may forgive me.'_ He had never desired anyone's pity before, the mere idea of being pitied was repulsive to the proud Fitzwilliam Darcy, yet anything – even pity – would be better than the unabated disdain that Elizabeth currently felt for him.

As he slumped silently in his chair, Fitzwilliam did not see his younger sister, standing hesitantly at the entryway, observing her brother with pained eyes. Georgiana had come to ask her brother if he wanted to join her for a game of chess, and inadvertently overheard his conversation with Elizabeth Bennet. When she first heard Fitzwilliam's excited voice as he picked up the phone and answered Ms. Bennet, Georgiana was delighted. At last her brother would be happy! And she liked Lizzy, she really did; she could not wish for a better girlfriend for her brother and potentially future sister-in-law for herself.

Yet as Fitzwilliam listened to the phone, his expression darkened, and his shoulders fell. And his loss of good humor was instantly mirrored by his little sister. Georgiana could not bear to see her beloved brother suffer. He was all she had now; he was her protector, her guardian, her caregiver. And she had always loved and trusted him, as any sister a dozen years his junior reasonably would. His happiness made her happy, and his pain made her suffer. Georgiana's mind reeled, attempting to understand what it was that hurt her brother so. What could Elizabeth have said to thus torment him? She had clearly agreed to dinner, since he asked her when she would like to dine before handing up. So what was the matter?

Georgiana quietly walked over to Fitzwilliam, and softly placed a hand on his shoulder. He jerked up his head, and looked at her with those hurt and angry eyes.

"Brother, what is the matter?"

"She's bringing a friend… she… oh…" Fitzwilliam was barely noticing what he was saying.

Georgie caressed his shoulder gently, and quietly pressed on. "Tell me, William. Tell me what is wrong, and everything will be alright."

"Oh Georgie!" He exclaimed, and embraced his sister, seeking comfort that only she was willing to give. "I love her so much, and want her to badly. I'd do anything… and she's bringing a friend to the dinner. A guy, I bet! She won't even let me sit at her table. She's mocking me, Georgie, and I only love her."

Georgiana stared at him in disbelief. "I don't quite understand, brother. Are you going to dinner with her, or not?"

William let out a bitter laugh. "I hardly understand myself. I am taking her to dinner, but she will bring a friend – a boyfriend, I am sure – and I will have to sit at a separate table from her."

"But… why?" By this point, Georgiana was utterly confused.

"To hurt me, without a doubt," he replied with visible bitterness in his tone. "I've behaved rudely at last night's soiree, and now she is mocking me, scorning. But all I want is a chance to win back her trust!"

Georgiana could not believe that anyone could do such a thing to her brother. And to think that it was Lizzy – whom she had come to think of as a real friend – was insufferable. How deceived she had been! The sweet girl's countenance darkened with anger. She stiffened, and said, doing her best to control her voice:

"Brother, she is not worth your pain. I am shocked at the cruelty of that girl… of that… that… monster! Don't let her do this to you. Forget her and scorn her. She's unworthy filth, if she can treat you this way!"

The palpable wrath in Georgiana's tone suddenly awakened Fitzwilliam from his self-pity. With consternation, he realized that his lovely, pleasant little sister was seething – and seething at Elizabeth Bennet, of all people. _'Oh God, what have I done? She hates Elizabeth now!'_ He wanted desperately to tell her the _entire _truth – all that he had done the night before, how he really did deserve Elizabeth's scorn. But he could not bring himself to do so. He could not bear it if Georgie's anger turned to him. Better it be Elizabeth than him. And with a sense of guilt, he asked Georgiana to leave him be, thus letting her carry away her misconceptions and her profound dislike for the girl who had just an hour ago been her friend. He pushed those musings aside, and returned to the task at hand: the dreaded dinner.

He called Madelena and reserved two tables – a table for two under the name of Elizabeth Bennet, and a table for one under his own. He insisted that the bills for both tables be directed to his account, and that the absolute top service be offered to Elizabeth. The restaurant's manager was as much in awe of Fitzwilliam Darcy as everyone in Meryton, and all of Mr. Darcy's requests were immediately granted.

Fitzwilliam then ordered a limousine service from Netherfield to pick Elizabeth up at quarter to seven, and to await her departure from the restaurant to safely and comfortable take her home. Everything had to be perfect for the night. Even if he was not granted the privilege of dining with her, he would be the one to create a perfect date for her. Once everything was organized, he sent the third and last bouquet of the day to her house – this time the roses were white – with a note that read _"I have arranged for transportation to pick you up along with your friend from your house at half past six. Please let me know if that is not agreeable with you. Forever yours, Fitzwilliam Darcy."_

Elizabeth noted that, despite the continual assurances of being forever hers, this note was colder than the previous two. No wonder. Her atrocious demands would be enough to send any man reeling, and she was still amazed by the ardor of infatuation that had led Fitzwilliam Darcy to accept them. She decided that the arranged transportation was agreeable enough, and asked Greg to be at her home at half past six. The boy had been positively surprised when she had called him earlier to invite him to Medalena, and was still insisting on taking her out himself and paying for her dinner. But upon Elizabeth's firm disagreement, he felt it best to let her have her way if it allowed him the pleasure of dining out with her so soon.

When he arrived at the Bennet household, Greg was surprised to find a glamorous limousine waiting in the driveway. His confusion deepened.

Once inside, he waited a few minutes for Elizabeth to finish her attire, while Mrs. Bennet coldly offered him a cup of tea. Greg was perplexed by Mrs. Bennet's distant and disgruntled manner.

He did not know about the woman's row with her daughter an hour prior, when Elizabeth informed her that she would take Greg with her to dinner. "What are you speaking of, girl?" Her mother had screamed. "You are going to dinner with Mr. Darcy! How can you scorn such a powerful man?!" The argument had lasted half an hour, and neither party succeeded in persuading the other. At the end, Mrs. Bennet was left to sulk in her disapprobation as her daughter went to her room to get ready.

At last, Elizabeth descended the staircase and greeted Greg with a pleasant smile. She looked ravishing in a tight sleeveless red dress. Her hair was pulled back into a casual bun, and her only jewelry was a set of ruby earrings. She looked effortlessly gorgeous, with her curves accentuated by the tight dress, and the color of her attire drawing attention to her sumptuous figure.

"You look lovely tonight, Elizabeth," Greg managed at last. He smiled and offered her his arm.

As they stepped outside, Elizabeth frowned when she noticed the limousine. She had acquiesced to Mr. Darcy's offer of transportation, but she had hardly given it any thought. She certainly had not expected a limousine in her driveway. The man was insufferably insistent with his attentions!

She pulled a smile back onto her face, and allowed the chauffeur to open the door for her. She greeted him pleasantly. Greg, however, was growing increasingly skeptical.

"Could you tell me what this is?" He asked his date.

She smiled. "A car. Come along, now."

But he was not satisfied. "And may I ask _whose _car it is?"

At this point, Elizabeth's momentary stunned silence let the chauffeur cut into their conversation. "Mr. Darcy ordered the car to pick the two of you up, sir," he replied pleasantly.

"Mr. Darcy?" Greg's countenance darkened as he remembered the interaction between the wealthy gentleman and Elizabeth the night before. "And why would he be involved with our transportation, Elizabeth? Would he happen to have also paid for our date?" He could not comprehend why Mr. Darcy would pay for Elizabeth's date with another man, but the gentleman's involvement incensed him with righteous jealousy.

Elizabeth did not know what to say. At last, she stated quietly, "He wanted to go out with me tonight, and I said I would rather go with you instead. Does it matter, Greg?"

"Damn yes, it does! How can I go on a date paid for by another man?!" Greg's anger was growing.

Elizabeth gave him the most enchanting smile she could muster. "Dear, it is only because I prefer _your _company to _his_." She slowly stroked his arm. "Please, come. If you don't, I may well be forced to eat with him instead. So why don't we just make the best out of the evening and enjoy a meal together?" At this, she gave him such a seductive smile, that he could no longer remain upset.

"Of course, Elizabeth, dearest. Anything you like." He smiled, and they entered the car.


	7. Chapter 7

Once they arrived at the restaurant, Liz was impressed by the attention they received. The manager came out to greet them personally, and walked them to an impeccably prepared table. He offered them drinks, and the service was exceptionally fast. Once their drinks were delivered, and the couple began to peruse the menu, Elizabeth swept the restaurant with a searching look.

And, of course, there he was. Mr. Darcy sat alone two tables away from them. He was turned towards them, and was regarding her with an unwavering gaze. The intensity of that gaze – the yearning and the pain conveyed by it – made her feel guilty for her cruelty. But she sternly reminded herself of his own prior ruthlessness, hardened her facial features, and returned to the menu.

'_She came with that boy,'_ was the first thing Fitzwilliam Darcy thought when he saw his beloved enter the restaurant. He knew, of course, that she would come with another man, even expected it to be Greg, but to actually see her with the young man who had incited his jealousy the night before was too much for him. Fitzwilliam drew a deep breath and attempted to calm himself. _'It's only a dinner. She just brought a friend.'_ At last, he calmed enough to fully appreciate Elizabeth's beauty in the alluring red dress. _'God, she's gorgeous!'_ The frustrating sensation of desire that accompanied their every meeting once again invaded his body. It was at this point that Elizabeth caught his yearning, pained gaze. In her glance, he thought he saw a fleeting softening, almost a trace of wistfulness or guilt_. 'Could she feel bad for what she has done to me? Could she begin to soften towards me?'_ Fitzwilliam thought hopefully. But Elizabeth's eyes hardened immediately, and she turned away.

For the next hour, Fitzwilliam Darcy's full attention was fixed on the couple seated two tables away. He watched Elizabeth order and receive her food. He was pleased to see that the restaurant's staff had done their very best for her; the service was impeccable, and he was exhilarated to see the pleased expression on her face, as she tasted her meal. He then watched her chat animatedly with Greg. He hungrily took in her every smile, knowing that they were not directed at him. He was growing increasingly annoyed and agitated, and had barely touched his own dinner.

His observation of the young couple was suddenly interrupted by the waitress attending his table. With a seductive smile, and a hint of teasing in her voice, she addressed him:

"Mr. Darcy, you have hardly touched your food. Is it not to your liking?"

"It is entirely agreeable, thank you," he said, barely giving her a glance before turning back to the subjects of his study.

"Then you must have more of it, sir. It would not do to starve yourself. To abuse such a magnificent body should be a sin, sir!" The girl let out a small giggle, and Mr. Darcy realized that she was blatantly flirting with him.

Fitzwilliam then looked up and regarded the girl with lazy curiosity. She was undeniably attractive, even sexy. Long straight blond hair, large green eyes, a full figure, and ample bosom. He knew well her type: it was the type of girl he used to bed casually. Yet now he could not feel attracted to her; now his senses were receptive to one girl only, and that girl was chatting pleasantly with another man, openly scorning and despising him. He sighed and glanced at Elizabeth's table.

What he saw sent a cold shiver through his body. Elizabeth and Greg were holding hands, and leaning close to each other, speaking softly, with tender smiles towards each other. Jealous, enraged, and hopeless, Fitzwilliam turned back to his waitress. With an expressive wink, she picked up his appetizer plate and was about to leave his table. He took in her curvy figure, the sumptuous curve of her behind, and with no intention of doing anything other than boosting his uncharacteristically falling sense of self-esteem, he soundly smacked the girl's buttocks.

The waitress shrieked with excitement, and cooed something to the effect of "Oh Mr. Darcy, how playful you are! But later, sir, we can do that later." Fitzwilliam was hardly paying attention. His mind was reeling, trying to take in what just happened, and cursing his foolish right hand. His eyes were once again directed at Elizabeth's table, and he was mortified to see her laughing. Laughing, of all things! Greg regarded his date with confusion, and once her fit of laughter had passed, he leaned in enquiringly towards her. Fitzwilliam saw her smile at her date, lean in towards him, and respond quietly. He then saw Greg turn in his direction with a smirk, and understood that the couple was speaking about him.

'She was laughing at _me_!' Fitzwilliam thought with mortification. _'She saw my thoughtless, desperate action, and she just laughed at me. Oh God, what must she think of me? And now that little boy of hers is laughing at me too!'_ He fervently hated himself. _'How on earth did I manage to do something stupid and thoughtless again? Why am I so moved by jealousy? Why am I so moved by her, or God's sake? I have never lost my self-control so thoroughly before, and here I am – losing it two days in a row!'_ He shriveled up in his seat, and spent the remainder of dinner without uttering another word, simply watching the woman he loved with a brooding face.

After Fitzwilliam's indecent display, Elizabeth's mood lightened. She was confused by the fact that she had so utterly misunderstood his attentions. Clearly, he was _not _desperately infatuated by her as she had thought; indeed, he had treated her as he had treated the pretty blond waitress. Was not grabbing her thigh equivalent to the unceremonious slap he had just placed on the waitress's bottom? _'But then why pay for my dinner with another man, and sit by himself, watching and brooding?'_ She thought, perplexed. The man did not make sense to her, but one thing was clear: he was not as deeply in love with her as she had thought. While that foiled her plan of revenge, it brought her unexpected relief. She was beginning to feel guilty for her cruel intentions, and had almost begun to reconsider them. Now, her guilt was suddenly removed. She was not hurting Fitzwilliam Darcy; she was not hurting anyone; now she could guiltlessly enjoy her dinner with Greg, whose company she found most pleasant.

They were almost done with their meal, amicably sharing the two deserts they had ordered, when Lizzy became aware of the fact that several waitresses had congregated a few feet away from their table, in a gossiping session. They spoke quietly, but were near enough for Liz to inadvertently overhear the entire conversation.

"God, he's gorgeous! Why would he ever dine alone?" She heard a short redhead whisper.

"Well, he's mighty brooding tonight," a tall brunette answered in a hushed voice. "But still magnificent."

"The blond young man at the nearest table is pretty cute too," a young black-haired girl pointed out, undoubtedly referring to Greg.

"Cute, perhaps, but nothing to Mr. Darcy," Elizabeth noted that this smug voice belonged to the blond whose behind had been graced with the illustrious man's smack.

"Of course, but then _no one _is anything to Mr. Darcy," the brunette whispered dreamily. "What I would give to feel his arms and lips upon me… I wonder what it's like to make love to him."

"Well, Larissa may well soon find out," the redhead replied with a wink, elbowing the blond, whose name must have been Larissa. The name sounded familiar, and, observing her face more closely, Elizabeth vaguely recollected that the girl went to her school, and that the two had not gotten along.

Larissa attempted a demure smile, which nonetheless came out quite smug. "It was only a playful spank, Cindy." She then added as calmly as she could, "But I think there might be more tonight."

"Oh God, Larissa!" The black-haired girl exclaimed. "Are you serious? If you bed Fitzwilliam Darcy, you will be one lucky bitch."

"You'll have to tell us _all _the saucy details," the redhead Cindy demanded. "I wonder what positions he likes. Mmm, and how big he is."

"Oh, he must be _quite _big," the brunette asserted. "Just look at him: such a sexy, imposing man!"

At this point, Lizzy, tired of the girls' explicit comments, interjected disgustedly: "Ladies, if it is not too much trouble, would you mind taking your dirty gossip elsewhere?"

The girls were affronted by the disdainful quirk of Elizabeth's lips, but said nothing. Only Larissa, whose self-assurance had been inflated by Mr. Darcy's small attention, smirked at Lizzy, and replied sardonically: "I am terribly sorry, ma'am. But I find your tone quite unacceptable."

Elizabeth was stunned by the disrespectful response of the waitress, and asked calmly: "And on what grounds do you find yourself justified to object to my tone in such a disrespectful manner?"

The girl smirked. "On enough grounds, believe me. For one thing, I do not see why a favorite of Mr. Darcy's should suffer derision from a petty little thing like yourself, _Lizzy_. This time, I won the hottest man." Hearing the distaste with which Larissa pronounced her name, Lizzy realized that the girl was holding a grudge against her. Thinking hard for a moment, she recalled that Larissa had developed a crush on Matthew Dean in eleventh grade, but her every attempt at securing his affection was thwarted, since Matthew was quite keen on Elizabeth. He was a good-looking, intelligent boy, and Elizabeth agreed to date him in senior year. Apparently, Larissa had never forgiven her.

Fitzwilliam Darcy had heard the exchange between the two girls, and was suddenly sitting upright, alert and ready to act. He could not bear to see the impertinence with which that little waitress was addressing his Elizabeth, and was about to walk over and put the stupid girl back in her place, when he heard Elizabeth's calm, controlled voice.

"That is quite enough, Larissa. I would like to speak to your manager." Her request was immediately granted, and with the manager's arrival, she spoke softly but firmly. "Mr. Johnson, I have asked your wait staff to relocate their sexually explicit gossiping session away from my table, and was met with some rather unprofessional remarks from" she paused for a moment, recalling Larissa's last name from her high school yearbook "from Miss Walker here. I am afraid the young lady holds a grudge against me from school, and while I respect her feelings, I was under the impression that one's work environment was not the place to voice such concerns." She finished as calmly as she began, and eyed Mr. Johnson with a stern gaze, and an insincere smile on her lips.

From his place, Fitzwilliam Darcy was amazed at the graceful yet dignified comportment of his fancy. His admiration grew as he fell back into his seat, realizing that Elizabeth required neither his support nor his protection.

Mr. Johnson's countenance darkened, and he addressed his staff: "The accusation of sexually explicit gossip during working hours within earshot of respected customers is a heavy one indeed, and will be dealt with accordingly. In the meantime, Miss Walker, I would like you to vacate the restaurant's premises. Your services will no longer be required here." With that, he directed the rest of his staff to return to work, and with an apology to Elizabeth, waited on her table himself. He remembered well Mr. Darcy's demand that the lady be treated with utmost respect throughout the evening, and was mortified at the discourtesy his wait staff had shown.

Distressed and frustrated, Larissa collected her purse and coat and headed for the door. On her way out, she passed Fitzwilliam Darcy's table, and slipped a piece of paper into his hand. She then halted next to him, and gave him a wide seductive smile.

Fitzwilliam glanced at the paper, and noticed the girl's phone number written carefully on it. He looked up, and said coolly: "That will be unnecessary, Miss Walker." He noticed confusion on the girl's face, and added: "Please accept my apology for my behavior earlier. I had no desire to have any physical intimacy with you, and I am sorry for having touched you. Please believe me that it was done in an irrational fit of jealousy at watching the woman I love smile at another man. It was not directed at you; you simply happened to be there." He knew that he was hurting the girl with his words, crushing her self-esteem and her dignity. But after the way she had behaved towards Elizabeth, he felt justified to be cruel towards her. He had also been disgusted with his own behavior when he slapped her behind, and was now taking his frustration with himself out on the poor girl. "So think no more of the ill-fated smack, Miss Walker, and please do not delude yourself: I wish to have nothing further to do with you. Good bye." And with that, he dismissed her.

Noticing that Elizabeth and Greg had by now finished their desert and departed from the restaurant, he stood up with a heavy sigh, gave Mr. Johnson a pained smile, and left. Inside his car, Mr. Darcy attempted to clear his mind. He had now acted despicably yet again, and it was impossible to believe that Elizabeth would ever forgive him. Yet he would not give up on her – he _could _not. His thoughts were unwaveringly occupied by her, and she had become his only desire.

Fitzwilliam Darcy had never given up before, and he was not about to start now. No, he would continue to woo her, but clearly he must change his tactics, or he would only continue making matters worse. Reflecting on his actions thus far, he realized that his mistakes stemmed from his possessive attitude towards her: he could not take her rejection of him or her flirtatious smiles towards other men. Every time things went wrong, he exploded and did something impulsive and stupid. No, if he wished to court Elizabeth Bennet, he would have to do so with patience, calmness, and humbleness. And with that, Fitzwilliam Darcy was determined to acquire all three of those virtues, and through them the woman he had somehow come to so ardently love and admire.


	8. Chapter 8

The limousine parked in the driveway. Greg stepped out of the car, walked over to Lizzy's side, opened the door, and offered her his arm. He walked her to the front door. About to enter the house, Liz turned towards him, and said warmly:

"Thank you for a pleasant evening, Greg. I had a lot of fun with you tonight."

He smiled. "No, thank _you_, Lizzy. I had never enjoyed such pleasant conversation."

They stood in silence for several moments, before he stepped closer, and leaned in towards her. Lizzy did not stop him; instead, she lifted her face towards him, and met his lips in a gentle kiss.

They drew apart, and, flushed, Greg said: "I'm sorry. I… I really do like you. Would you go out with me again?"

Liz smiled broadly. "I like you too, Greg. And I would be happy to see you again."

He regained his confidence with her assurance, and teased: "But this time, I organize the date!"

She laughed and nodded her head. "Goodnight, Greg."

"Goodnight, Lizzy. I'll call you!"

She stepped into the house, and he walked away with swift, excited steps.

Once inside, Lizzy ignored her mother's cries and indignant commands, and went straight to her bedroom. She did not wish to see anyone that evening, not even her favorite sister Jane. Lizzy wanted to be alone, to reflect on the flurry of feelings that suddenly overcame her.

The parting kiss with Greg was pleasant. She had truly enjoyed dining with him, and was excited about the possibility of a relationship with him. He was cute, gentle, and funny: the type of man she usually dated. She did not feel an overwhelming passion towards him; her face was far less flushed after their kiss than his, and her heart was far less moved. But then she had _never _felt overwhelming passion towards a man. In Lizzy's opinion, a healthy physical attraction and an affinity of character were quite enough for a pleasant passing relationship.

Lizzy smiled as she mused on her growing affection towards Greg. But then she turned to the less pleasant feelings she had experienced that evening: those incited by Fitzwilliam Darcy. There was despising, as always, there was disgust, there was amusement at his ridiculousness. But there was also confusion about this absolutely incomprehensible man. And at some point, at the beginning of the dinner, there had also been pity and guilt.

Lizzy glanced at the clock. It was quarter to ten. She sighed and cuddled into bed, deciding to call it an early night. But her thoughts would not leave her for hours. Her emotions had been perturbed. She wanted to attribute it to her budding relationship with Greg, but deep inside she knew that she could not: she had never been this perturbed by her relationships before, and Greg was no different.

It took Liz a while to fall asleep, and by the time she woke up the following morning, she noticed that the house was empty. It was Monday, so her father was at work, and Kitty and Lydia were at their summer school classes. Mary had undoubtedly gone to practice piano at the town's small music school. And a note on the kitchen table informed Lizzy that Mrs. Bennet had taken Jane out shopping. Lizzy sighed, and thought that perhaps the emptiness of her house was for the best. She was not sure if she was ready to face her family yet, lest they enquire about last night.

Bored, Lizzy finished breakfast and decided to use her quiet time alone to clean up her bedroom. Lizzy despised cleaning, and had not cleaned a single time since her return home. Her room had become a mess after weeks of neglect. Liz pulled out the vacuum cleaner, and brought it up to the room. She glanced around and let out an exasperated sigh: the vacuum cleaner would have to wait. There were far too many clothes and books scattered over the floor. Resigned, she began putting away the misplaced items.

It had not been an hour, before she heard the doorbell ring. Assuming it was either Mary or Mrs. Bennet and Jane, Lizzy rushed downstairs.

She was shocked when she opened the door to the intense gaze of none other than Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy.

Liz gasped and took in his appearance. He was clean-shaven, in a nice white shirt and well-fitting gray trousers. He was not wearing a jacket, and the top button of his shirt was unbuttoned casually. In his right hand, he held a beautiful bouquet of large white lilies. His left forearm was resting on the door, a subtle precaution against her closing it in his face.

"Mr. Darcy…" Lizzy stammered, unable to overcome her shock at seeing him at her house at noon on a workday. "Why are you not at the office?"

He smiled. "I took a day off."

"Why?" She inquired, her expression turning from shocked to hostile as she divined his intentions.

"To see you, Elizabeth," he said simply. "I… I need to talk to you."

"I don't believe we have anything to talk about, Mr. Darcy," she said coolly, and reached to close the door.

"No, Elizabeth, please! Please let me explain," his voice begged her, and his eyes implored. But Elizabeth was unmoved.

"There is absolutely no need, Mr. Darcy. You do not need to explain anything to me. You are not accountable to _me _for your actions, sir," she smirked. "You can do whatever you please, as long as it does not concern me, and I will not give a damn, I promise. Good day, sir."

"Elizabeth, please let me speak," he pronounced barely audibly. His eyes were downcast following her rebuke.

Lizzy was taken aback by the quiet humbleness and dejectedness of his address, and made no reply.

Encouraged, Fitzwilliam looked up at her face, and asked quietly: "May I come in?"

At this she smirked, stepped towards him, and closed the door behind her. They were now facing each other in front of her house. "If you wish to speak, sir, you can do so here," she said firmly.

'_She does not trust me! She does not trust me enough to be alone with me inside,'_ Fitzwilliam thought ruefully. _'Well,'_ he chastised himself bitterly, _'why _should_ she trust you, after everything you have done?'_

He noticed her raised eyebrow and folded arms. She was waiting for him to speak. "Elizabeth," he began, "please allow me to apologize for my behavior up to this point. No, no," he countered as she attempted to interrupt. "Please do not say anything. I am not asking you to forgive me. That would be too much to ask. Just allow me to apologize, allow me to say this, to discuss my behavior for my sake if not for yours."

He drew a deep breath, and continued: "I love you, Elizabeth. I admire you most ardently. I have never met anyone like you, have never felt this way before. It is difficult for me to reconcile my feelings, to know what to do with them and how to act. I love you dearly, but there is more. There is the physical passion with which I desire you. It drives me crazy, Elizabeth! That teasing way in which you spoke to Greg on Saturday drove me crazy, and impulsively I touched your thigh. It was wrong of me, I know: wrong and presumptuous. But I was not thinking straight. Neither was I thinking straight when you traded your seat with your father, and when I kissed Caroline Bingley. Good God, Elizabeth, if you only knew what I felt! Humiliated, sure, but worse: hurt, dejected, _hopeless_. And those same feelings came back yesterday, upon seeing your interaction with Greg at the restaurant. I hardly saw the buttock I smacked. I did it only as an attempt to wake myself from the dejected slumber into which I was descending, to restore some of my pride, my self-esteem." He paused for only a moment, but it was enough for Elizabeth's sardonic voice to interject:

"And do you expect me to believe that? You claim to feel passionately for me, even to love me, yet your actions speak the opposite. All you have demonstrated is possessiveness towards me. I am sure that the only reason you are pursuing me with such frustrating persistence is that I am the only thing you have ever been denied in your entire life. You are used to getting everything you want, and you view everything and everyone as a possession to be acquired. That is all I am to you. And the fact that you are just as ready to kiss the lips and slap the bottoms of other women only confirms my impression."

At this point, Fitzwilliam could no longer contain his desperate emotions. He grabbed her hands and cried in frustration. "Elizabeth, you have no idea _what _you are doing to me – what you have already done! You have driven me crazy. You stand there, in a washed out bathrobe, shooting me hateful, disdainful looks, and all I can feel is admiration and a passionate desire for you."

Elizabeth was too startled by the passion in Fitzwilliam's words to speak.

Taking advantage of Elizabeth's momentary silence, Fitzwilliam caught his breath, knelt in front of her, and spoke now gently and quietly. "Elizabeth, I have realized the full extent of the despicability of my actions. I am deeply, profoundly sorry. And even if you were ever to forgive me, I could never forgive myself. In fact, I don't _want _to ever forgive myself; instead, I want to use this lesson to make myself a better man, a man who may one day be worthy of your trust, even if not of your love or forgiveness. I realized what was behind my poor behavior: it was my conceit, my possessiveness, my impatience. I promise you to do everything possible to rid myself of these faults. I will do my best to learn to be patient, calm, humble. You, dearest, loveliest Elizabeth, have made me realize the imperfection of my own character; and for you, I will gladly change." He placed his head quietly against her chest, and continued in an almost imperceptible whisper: "Please, Elizabeth, please do not chase me away."

Liz blinked several times, wondering briefly if she was in a dream. The absurdity of the situation slowly sank in. Fitzwilliam Darcy was on his knees in the walkway in front of her house, quietly begging her not to chase him away! Fitzwilliam Darcy was on his _knees_! Elizabeth smirked at the irony of the fact that the honor of bringing that proud, disagreeable man to his knees was granted to _her_, of all people. She looked down at his dark curls, covering the head that was resting softly against her chest. He was waiting patiently, but she could feel the nervousness of his breathing. Lizzy thought back to his last speech. She could not help but be moved by it, especially by the quiet supplication at the end.

"Get up, sir," she said quietly. Then added, "Please."

Fitzwilliam stood up and looked at her with anticipation. She gave him a reassuring smile.

"I will not chase you away, Mr. Darcy." She heard him let out a relieved sigh, and added jokingly, "I doubt the populace of Meryton would forgive me if I did. They all seem quite taken with you."

He moved his shoulders uncomfortably. "I know I don't deserve their admiration."

She laughed. "That's not for us to decide. At any rate, I suppose we should talk."

At this, she opened the front door, and walked into the house, letting him follow her. Fitzwilliam's heart raced at the realization that she now trusted him enough to allow him into her home. He had made progress! He looked down and noticed that he was still holding the lilies. He smiled sheepishly and passed them to Liz with a quiet "For you."

She took the bouquet and placed it in a vase, wanting to comment on the fact that he was really overdoing the flowers, but decided to remain silent.

At last, she sat down on the couch and motioned for him to join her.

"When you spoke of your behavior, Mr. Darcy, did you mean only your actions over the past few days?" She regarded him intently as she awaited his reply.

Fitzwilliam considered her words carefully. "I… I don't know…" He then reflected on his life thus far, and realized her meaning. Indeed, he had been mistreating people his entire life, only he never bothered to notice it. He always thought that those he scorned deserved it: their fawning made them beneath him in his eyes. "You're right," he said slowly. "I have been presumptuous and arrogant my entire life."

"Indeed," she smirked coldly. "And do you realize how many young and gentle hearts you have broken, Fitzwilliam Darcy?"

He looked down on his hands and did not reply. _'Have I really hurt all those girls as deeply as she makes it sound? Did they feel the pain I currently feel myself? Oh God, I hope not! What have I done? How could I be so thoughtlessly cruel?'_

"I remember you, Mr. Darcy, from over ten years ago," Elizabeth said quietly.

Fitzwilliam was surprised by that admission, and gave her a questioning look.

She smirked. "You wouldn't remember me, of course. I was eight years your junior – still in elementary school when you were in high school. You didn't notice me, but I noticed you. I saw the suffering of some older girls. I saw the cruel way you played with their affections." She paused briefly, before adding in a whisper, "And then there was Charlotte."

Fitzwilliam watched her, dumbfounded. She was right. With her childish eyes, she had seen what he had failed to see. He thought he was merely breaking the girls' foolish ambitions to gain his wealth and his fit body. But she saw what was really there: he was breaking the girls' hearts, their hopes, their self-esteem. Fitzwilliam concentrated, and from his distant memories, he recalled Charlotte. For him, she was like all the other girls. But studying Elizabeth's face, he saw that for her, Charlotte was much more.

Suddenly, a quite sob escaped the girl seated next to him, and with terror Fitzwilliam noticed tears emerge from her eyes. She sobbed again, and covered her face with her hands. Fitzwilliam immediately slid from his seat on the couch, knelt in front of her, softly removed her hands, and gently brushed her tears away. He wished desperately to kiss them away instead, but he knew he did not have the right do so.

"Elizabeth, I am so sorry for what I had done. I did not realize that I hurt them so. I thought they wanted me for my money and my body only, all of them. I thought I was merely thwarting their plans, not breaking their hearts. Of course, I should have known better. I should have seen their young first love for what it was, and should have been gentle with it, not cruel. I should have comforted them, not scolded. Oh God, Elizabeth, how heartily ashamed I am!"

She was hardly listening to him. The memory of Charlotte's dejected face was all she could think of. "She was so young… so gentle… so naïve…" she mumbled. "How could you do that to her? If only you could see her face, her lovely tear-stricken face, after you were done with her! Oh cruel, heartless man! How could you? You were her first love… first hope… and you just broke her heart."

Fitzwilliam now understood why Elizabeth had looked at him with such disdain from the very beginning of their acquaintance, at that party a year ago. And with this understanding, he began to share her deep despising for his own past cruelty.

He lowered his head, and simply waited for Elizabeth to calm herself. He respectfully granted her personal space, not interfering with her painful recollections.

At last, she was calm. "I'm sorry, Mr. Darcy. I should not have made such a display. I hope you understand at least a little of my reasoning."

"Oh, I do! I am so ashamed, Elizabeth." He could not bring himself to look her in the eyes. "I will do my best to change, I promise."

There was such earnestness in his tone, that she patted his hair reassuringly, and simply said: "Let us speak no more of it. Come, I should get back to cleaning my room, and you should get back to work."

Suddenly, Fitzwilliam grinned as a brilliant idea struck his mind. "You were cleaning your room?" He asked, trying to contain his excitement.

"Indeed," she looked at him quizzically. "Why?"

"Could I… would you allow me to… May I please tidy the house for you?" He asked hopefully.

Elizabeth was too startled to make a reply. _'What does this man want?'_

Fitzwilliam noted her confusion and elaborated. "I realized that I have been plagued with arrogance my entire life, Elizabeth. I have always had everything I wanted without exerting a bit of effort. Everyone else was at my service. I would like to correct that aspect of my character, as well as several others. Perhaps you would allow me to begin by letting me perform a simple service for you."

'_God, the man is incorrigible!'_ Elizabeth thought with frustration. _'He should truly add extravagance to his list of character flaws, for that is certainly a defining characteristic of Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy. He offends extravagantly and then attempts to make it up with equally ridiculous actions.'_ But for some reason she found herself unable to deny the expectancy in his eyes. And, though she would not admit so to herself immediately, she was thoroughly amused by the prospect of Mr. Darcy decorating his head engineer's house. Elizabeth was entertained by all that was absurd or silly, and Mr. Darcy's proposition was certainly both.

"Very well, Mr. Darcy. Would you like to do so alone, or may I help you?" Her tone was teasing, almost playful.

"I would rather not impose such an activity upon you, Miss Bennet," he teased in return, exhilarated by her acquiescence. "I can see that you quite despise cleaning."

She sighed. "You are right. But my conscience would not allow me to sit idly while you tidy my house. Would you mind if I go out for lunch with Charlotte while you're at it?"

"Not at all." He graced her with a heartfelt smile. _'She is actually talking to me, earnestly consulting with me!' _He was elated. But a shadow suddenly passed through his handsome face as the name she had uttered sank in. He added quietly and apologetically: "Please convey my regards to your friend."

Elizabeth was touched by his tone, and smiled at him. In a sudden impulse of affection towards this man, who seemed to sincerely recognize his faults and was now determined to better himself, she gently stroked his left cheek, and whispered: "I will see you later, William."

Fitzwilliam thought his heart might burst from happiness at her tender touch and her usage of his name_. 'She caressed me! She called me William!'_ He watched the front door close behind Elizabeth, and through the window he saw her walk away from the house. _'This is a wonderful beginning. We have at last come to an understanding. Perhaps in time, she will forgive me. Perhaps in time I will earn her respect. Yes, perhaps.'_

And with a hopefulness he had not felt in the past two days, Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy energetically took to rearranging Mr. Thomas Bennet's living room.


	9. Chapter 9

Lizzy Bennet called Charlotte Lucas, and was pleased to hear that her friend was not otherwise engaged for lunch. The two girls met up at a local café, and chatted over their pizza.

After a short pause in their conversation, Charlotte finally uttered the question that had been on her mind since two days ago: "Lizzy, what was going on at Mr. Darcy's party?"

Liz was about to brush off the question and change the subject, but saw the demanding inquiry in Charlotte's steady gaze, sighed, and recounted the entire story of her interactions with Mr. Darcy over the past three days. Charlotte did not interject a single word, though her facial expressions displayed a flurry of emotion. She was curious when she heard about Mr. Darcy's attentions at the soiree, contemplative when Lizzy mentioned his kiss with Caroline Bingley, perplexed by the insistent bouquets and the accompanying notes, saddened by the recounting of last night's dinner, and at last tenderly smiling when she heard about the heartfelt conversation Lizzy had shared with Fitzwilliam only half and hour before. As Liz finished her story with the fact that Fitzwilliam Darcy was currently tidying her living room, Charlotte's emotions gave way to undisguised shock, and, a few seconds later, merry laughter.

"Oh Lizzy, the man is besotted by you!" She exclaimed pleasantly. Charlotte was happy for her friend. She loved Liz dearly, almost as a younger sister, and she had always wished the best for Liz, just as Liz did for her. The attentions that Fitzwilliam Darcy bestowed on her friend were impressive, to say the least. They spoke clearly of his deep affection for Elizabeth, and Charlotte was excited to think what a union to such a wealthy, powerful man could do for her friend.

She was surprised, however, to find no excitement in Liz's face. Only chagrin.

"Besotted indeed…" Lizzy mumbled quietly.

"Why Liz, aren't you happy about it?"

Lizzy gave her the strangest look. "Oh Charlotte, how can you even ask that? I have always despised that man! Never have I asked for his attention, nor have I ever desired it."

"I know you've disliked him, but he seems to be genuinely willing to change. That must mean a _lot_, coming from such a reserved and proud man as Fitzwilliam Darcy."

Lizzy gave her a gentle smile. "Dear Charlotte, no matter how much he changes I could never fully forgive him. He has made several mistakes with me, but those I can overlook. For what he had done to _you_, though, I could never forget."

At this unexpected admission, Charlotte could not help but laugh. "Are you serious Lizzy? You are holding a grudge against him for my silly crush from nine years ago?!"

Lizzy regarded her friend quizzically. "He was heartless, Charlotte. Cruel, heartless. I love you as a sister; I could never forgive the pain he caused you." Her tone was earnest and serious, and her friend could not help but continue laughing.

"Oh Lizzy, what a silly, impressionable child you were. It was a teenage _crush_, for God's sake! And it was _nine years_ ago!"

Lizzy looked pensive. "Have you truly forgiven him, Char?"

Charlotte nodded. "Long ago. Truly, there was not much to forgive. He and I both acted as immature teenagers. I gave way to my fantasies; he succumbed to his pride. I am embarrassed to remember my own silliness. I would much rather forget the whole thing than hold a grudge for it."

"But… but the way you acted afterwards. You were never the same, Charlotte! You have grown cynical, and I blame him for that. He has extinguished your romantic side!"

Charlotte smiled indulgently at her passionate friend. "Oh Lizzy, he has done no more than countless other young men have done with countless other girls. Silly goose, don't you realize that it is in the nature of fifteen-year-old girls to grow unhealthy infatuations and subsequently develop broken hearts?" She laughed shrilly. "If there was no Fitzwilliam Darcy, I would have found another man to pine over, and another way to be crossed in love. Perhaps the reason why you have grown so indignant over it, is because you are that rare girl who managed to escape untouched: that unusual female who had never been crossed in love in her teenage years! I am quite amazed at you, Lizzy," she finished light-heartedly.

Lizzy's brows furrowed. "You forgive too easily, Charlotte."

"And you are far too resentful, Elizabeth."

After a heavy silence, Charlotte patted Elizabeth's arm. "Come now, Lizzy. Let go of the grudge. Trust me when I say that he has done nothing quite so abominable as to merit your despising for a decade. You were eleven back then; you were astute and impressionable. You saw your friend suffer, and, never having been in love yourself, you grew angry. I appreciate your care, dear Lizzy, but truly – the man is not so bad." She winked, "And he is dead gorgeous. Come on, give him a chance."

Lizzy sighed. "Very well, I will be gentler with him. As for giving him a chance, though, I have never been interested in him, Charlotte, and I am not about to start now." She thought for a moment, then smiled and added, "Besides, there is someone else…"

Lizzy animatedly told her friend about her budding romance with Greg, and the girls chatted pleasantly for another half-hour before heading to heir respective homes.

As she approached her house, Elizabeth cringed at the sight of her mother's Honda parked outside_. 'Oh God, Mama's come home! What will she think when she sees William?'_ Liz's heart raced as she braced herself for the uncomfortable encounter, and the explanation she would inevitably have to give to her mother. She had not failed to notice how angry Mrs. Bennet had been with her the night before.

And Mrs. Bennet's anger was understandable, to be sure. The woman noticed the unlikely attentions that Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy (ideal son-in-law indeed!) was paying to her second-eldest daughter, and was certainly shocked. But she was an animated woman whose only passion in life was to procure grand and wealthy husbands for her daughters. Her imagination was wild, and it was not difficult for her mother's partiality to come to terms with the potential match between the wealthiest man in the state and one of _her _daughters, as unexpected as that was. She was elated for her daughter's good fortune, and was ready to promote the match with all the means at her disposal. Great indeed was her shock at discovering that her daughter felt no excitement at Mr. Darcy's attentions! Quite to the contrary, Elizabeth seemed reluctant to accept his dinner invitation, and when she did… oh, Mrs. Bennet could hardly stand still when she thought of what her daughter did! That ungrateful child brought _another man_ to their date! She slighted _Fitzwilliam Darcy_, and what was worth – the other man was no more than a college boy of twenty-one, with no great fortune or exceptional connections. He was handsome, to be sure, but nothing to Fitzwilliam Darcy!

Elizabeth understood all of her mother's concerns, and it was with great trepidation that she now approached the front door of her house. For she could only imagine her mother's ire at finding the worthy Fitzwilliam Darcy tidying up their house. Liz hardly dared to think what her mother would say about such outrageous scorn of such a great and illustrious man. Liz sighed, stretched her shoulders, and bravely entered the house.


	10. Chapter 10

Mrs. Frances Bennet had arrived back home only fifteen minutes before Liz. As she exited the car with Jane in tow, she was in much better spirits than when she had left that morning. A few hours of shopping did exactly what she had hoped it would do: it made her forget about that impertinent, ungrateful Lizzy. She had secured the company of her eldest daughter – the sweet, obedient, _reasonable _Jane. In some strange way, taking Jane out shopping while leaving Liz home alone had felt comforting: as if she was punishing her disobedient second daughter. And so she doted on Jane, and by the end of the shopping spree, they could hardly carry all the bags full of purchases. Frances Bennet smiled. After all, it was Jane who was her greatest hope of a wealthy marriage. Liz had somehow attracted the unattainable Fitzwilliam Darcy, but the stupid girl clearly had no idea how to keep his attentions on her, or how to secure him for good. Instead, the unbearable child did everything possible to scare him away, and Frances Bennet had no doubt that Fitzwilliam Darcy's attentions to her second daughter would cease very soon. Jane, on the other hand… And lost in pleasant thoughts, a broad smile spread across Mrs. Bennet's face as she picked up the bags and headed towards the house followed by her eldest daughter.

Upon coming home, Mrs. Bennet was immediately surprised by the pleasant cleanliness of her living room. She was not messy herself, but she was certainly not meticulous. No one in the Bennet household really was. Mr. Bennet cared little for anything outside his work and his books. Kitty and Lydia were too caught up in boys and clothes, and far too energetic to take the time to clean up after themselves. Mary strove to some absurd ideal of "sophistication" that only made sense to herself; but that ideal certainly did not include cleaning – that was far beneath her. Jane always made attempts to help her mother keep the house in order when she was home for the holidays, while Lizzy was simply disorganized. For her part, Mrs. Bennet did her best to make her home look presentable, but preferred to spend her time dressing her daughters or gossiping with her friends.

And so it was, that her reaction to seeing a clean, uncluttered, _elegant _living room filled with a subtle scent of wildflowers and decorated with a beautiful bouquet of colorful chrysanthemums, was pure surprise. Jane had been with her during the entire morning, and absolutely no one else in the family could give her such a cheerful surprise. In fact, she was sure that the only person left in the house that morning was Lizzy. But no, Lizzy couldn't… Mrs. Bennet blinked several times without saying anything, then called out quietly: "Lizzy? Lizzy, are you home?"

She heard the back door open, and someone enter the house from the backyard. "Lizzy, is that you?"

"Good afternoon, Mrs. Bennet," she heard a cheerful deep voice with a slight British accent greet her, and was stunned by the vision of Fitzwilliam Darcy, with the sleeves of his expensive white shirt rolled up casually, and with a pair of gardening scissors in his hands. She had not recomposed herself enough to speak before he continued pleasantly, "You have a lovely backyard. I took the liberty of cleaning it up a bit. I hope you don't mind." At this he gave her a dazzling smile.

"Wh-Where's L-Lizzy?" She stuttered at last, still unable to overcome her consternation at seeing him at her house and in such a state.

"She went out for lunch with Charlotte. I'm sure she will be back soon. Here, let me help you with those," he said, taking the shopping bags from her and Jane.

"Thank you," Jane said quietly, at last finding her voice. She had been as stunned as her mother. Her first thoughts were that Fitzwilliam had managed to secure her sister's affection after all, and that they were working together in the garden. That picture was so pleasant, that she did not give it a second thought, nor did she bother to recall the profound dislike her sister had professed for the man. Now, however, at finding that her sister was _not _at home – that Mr. Darcy was at their house _alone _doing _gardening _for God's sake! – She knew not what to think. There was no plausible explanation. Jane's face now mirrored the blank surprise written across the face of her mother.

Fitzwilliam realized the strange image he must have presented to the two women, and sought to relieve their confusion. He motioned for them to sit on the living room couch, walked to the kitchen, and took the liberty of pouring each of them a glass of orange juice from the fridge. He could not help but inwardly laugh at the irony of the situation: he was playing host to them in their own house!

Once he sat at a fauteuil across the couch, he explained slowly and calmly: "I came to see Elizabeth this morning, and found her cleaning her room. We talked, and at last decided that it would be best if I tidied the house instead." He smiled. "Since I did not desire her help, she decided to go out to lunch with her friend."

Mrs. Bennet just stared at him for a few seconds, taking in his words. Then she shrieked, "You cleaned our house, Mr. Darcy?!"

He nodded and smiled. "I just did a cursory cleaning in the kitchen and the living room. Since none of the family was back yet, I figured I could do some gardening. It has been quite refreshing." His eyes shone warmly, and his complexion was luminous from the fresh air and exercise.

While Mrs. Bennet was shocked and terrified by the thought of such a wealthy and powerful man doing housework in her household, the more astute Jane was amazed at Mr. Darcy's altered manners. He had always been proud, reserved, and selfish. Now he appeared the complete opposite: gentle, cheerful, unassuming. She could not help but marvel at the sudden change. Could it really be her dearest sister who had affected such an astounding transformation?

"Mr. Darcy, this is… so… I don't know what to say," Jane heard her mother mumbling. "I am so embarrassed. So sorry. I know the upkeep of our house was not up to your standards. You expect the best from your employees… I'm so sorry. You should have just told us."

Mr. Darcy chuckled at her words. How thoroughly she managed to misunderstand him! Yet he felt that her misunderstanding was almost willful; she seemed to find her ridiculous supposition easier to believe than the idea of him helping her out of goodwill and friendship. He frowned at the unpleasant thought.

"You misunderstand me, Mrs. Bennet," he stated patiently. "I only helped because I wanted to. Please take it as a small token of my friendship."

"It was Lizzy, wasn't it?" Mrs. Bennet blurted out, at last unable to escape the truth. "She made you do it! Oh that impertinent girl!" Mrs. Bennet had recovered her ability to speak (or to shriek, rather), and it would no longer be contained. "Oh Mr. Darcy! Please accept my apologies on my stupid daughter's behalf. She has behaved abominably towards you. You have been so kind and generous to her, and she has been such a brat! Please, sir, don't hold it against us. I will chastise her properly. And in the meantime, Jane here is much prettier and much, _much_ nicer than Lizzy…" She trailed off, edging an embarrassed Jane towards him.

His countenance darkened. "Mrs. Bennet, I assure you, that this was all _my _idea," he countered calmly.

There was a moment of silence, while Mrs. Bennet was collecting her thoughts enough to make another vocal display, and Mr. Darcy was trying to think of a way to convince and appease this woman.

It was at this unfortunate moment, that Elizabeth Bennet herself made her entrance into the house.

The sight of her was enough to send her mother into another fit. "Elizabeth Claire Bennet!" She yelled with indignation. "How _dare _you?! How dare you force this man," she pointed at an astonished Fitzwilliam, "to clean this house? Don't you know who he is, child? He is _Fitzwilliam Darcy_, the owner and CEO of _Pemberley_!" she finished with emphasis.

Elizabeth had prepared herself for her mother's anger, but for some reason she had not quite expected so loud an outburst so soon. Perhaps the exceptionally quiet way her mother had expressed her disapprobation that morning (instead of waking Lizzy up with shrieks and reproaches, she had simply gone shopping with Jane) had led her to the erroneous hope that her mother's vocalism had been tempered and her reason enhanced. So much for that hope. Lizzy sneaked a timid look in Fitzwilliam's direction, wondering what he must think of her family now, and of _her_. She immediately chastised herself for even remotely caring about his good opinion, sighed, and prepared herself to answer her mother.

Yet it was not her voice that responded to Mrs. Bennet's shouts. Calmly, Fitzwilliam Darcy walked over to Frances Bennet, placed his hands gently on her shoulders, and said in a voice that broached no opposition. "Please cease, madam, this unmerited reproach of your daughter. I have just told you, that the entire ordeal was my doing and my doing only. It was I who had behaved abominably towards Elizabeth, and towards too many others," at this one corner of his perfect lips lifted into a rueful, thoughtful half-smile. "I have determined to mend my ways, to become better and kinder. I ask you not to be distressed by the fact that I chose your family as the place where I would begin to display that kindness." He noticed that the woman in front of him seemed to be calming gradually, and added softly, "Although in one thing you are right: I care deeply for your daughter, and hold the highest opinion of her. Among other things, I find her integrity and her concern for her friends to be admirable. I would be very happy never to hear her called anything unfavorable ever again," he finished firmly. He then moved his eyes to Lizzy, and regarded her with simultaneously such piercing intensity and such tenderness, that she shifted uncomfortably, and looked away.

A prolonged silence followed Fitzwilliam's eloquent speech, as Mrs. Bennet took in everything he had said. At last she concluded that: Fitzwilliam Darcy was in love with her daughter, did not find her actions offensive (though Mrs. Bennet was not quite so forgiving herself), and he was clearly the kindest, gentlest, and most generous of men (not to mention the handsomest, and obscenely wealthy). And so, Frances Bennet at last let out a sigh of relief, and smiled warmly at the man who was still holding her shoulders and regarding her with an expectant stare. If he liked her Lizzy – though what he saw in her was quite incomprehensible, – then it would not do to scare him away. Mrs. Bennet's smile broadened, and she readily switched from ruthless reproach of her daughter to equally loud praise of that daughter's unexpected suitor:

"Oh Mr. Darcy, how kind you are! How generous, noble, and good! I have never met a young man so worthy of admiration. Please, if there is anything at all we can do to repay you for your generous attention and kindness, do not hesitate to ask. Though there is little, of course, we could give you. We are so far beneath you in every respect." She suddenly realized that this might turn him away, and added, "Though my daughters are quite pretty. Jane is a real beauty, everyone says. And Lizzy is not bad either."

Liz cringed and reddened at her mother's display. A quick glance at Fitzwilliam assured her that he was equally embarrassed. Yet he comported himself with admirable calm and self-control. He listened patiently to Mrs. Bennet's ranting, subtly changing the conversation to more bearable topics: chief among them, the success of Pemberley Corp, since Mrs. Bennet was as effusive in praising the corporation as she was in flattering the owner.

After an hour of relatively calm conversation, they heard a key turn in the lock of the front door, followed by Lydia's merry voice: "We're home, schmucks! Such a _glorious _day – I have finally been asked out by Ben! And then on the way back, we ran into the _cutest _guy _ever_!"

Lydia blabbered excitedly, oblivious to everything around her; she hardly cared whether she had an audience at all. She suddenly stopped, when Kitty elbowed her in the side, and Mrs. Bennet hissed, "Lydia, we have a guest."

Only then did she notice Fitzwilliam Darcy standing in the corner of the living room (and an unusually beautiful living room at that!). She gasped and took in his gorgeous figure: his well-fitting trousers, his elegant shirt, with the top button undone and sleeves rolled up (God, he was sexy!), his arms folded across his chest and his prominent muscles so well-defined, and the beautiful smile spread across his incredibly handsome face.

"M-Mr. Darcy, hello," she whispered, and nearly swooned. Behind her, Kitty giggled nervously, equally affected by the handsome man before them.

Flustered and embarrassed by their uncouth entrance, both girls rushed upstairs to their bedrooms.

As they left, an awkward tension appeared among the company gathered in the living room, until it was burst by Lizzy's radiant laughter, which was immediately joined by Fitzwilliam's, and subsequently Jane's. Mrs. Bennet was far too overtaken by her poor nerves to partake in the others' gaiety.

Just as they were returning to comfortable chatter, the two teenage girls came rushing back down the stairs.

"Mama, there is a giant bouquet of gardenias in my room!" Kitty shrieked.

"And daffodils in mine," Lydia added. "When were they delivered? And whom are they from? Oh, I hope it's one of the cute boys!"

Mrs. Bennet looked from one girl to the other with a blank expression.

Jane Bennet knitted her eyebrows in thought.

Elizabeth Bennet regarded Fitzwilliam sternly.

And Fitzwilliam Darcy shifted uncomfortably under her gaze. "I took the liberty of placing flowers in each room. I didn't know what everyone liked, so I brought daffodils for Lydia, gardenias for Kitty, carnations for Mary, tulips for Jane, irises for Mr. and Mrs. Bennet," Lizzy could not help but smile at how aptly he allocated the flowers. "And roses for Elizabeth," he finished softly and looked down. "I hope I did not offend anyone with my forwardness. I thought it would be a nice finish to the house."

Everyone was too shocked to speak. At last, Elizabeth said flatly, "I didn't expect to hear of any more flowers for myself. I think the lilies from this morning are quite enough. Not to mention yesterday's three bouquets."

"Those were from you?" Lydia regarded Fitzwilliam suspiciously. Somehow, the youngest two girls had been too cut up with their own boy drama to hear their mother's effusions at discovering the sender of the first bouquet.

Fitzwilliam only nodded. "I'm sorry, Elizabeth. I am a selfish creature; I enjoy giving you flowers."

Lydia looked at her older sister, and gave her a mocking half-smile. _'I'll have to have a talk with that sly thing later,'_ she thought amusedly. _'And to think that she was warning _me_ off of Fitzwilliam!'_ And with a giggle, she bounced back upstairs, followed by the faithful Kitty.

As the girls left, Fitzwilliam thought that it was time for him to depart as well. The last thing he wished to do was to overstay his welcome. Noticing the uncomfortable silence that settled into the room, he excused himself. "I think I better be going. Thank you for your hospitality, Mrs. Bennet. And thank you for your company, Jane, Elizabeth." But no, he couldn't just go! He couldn't leave just like that. When so much progress was made, he wanted more: he wanted to secure a chance to see her again, and this time to have her all to himself. "Elizabeth," he added tenderly, "would you allow me to take you out to dinner?"

Elizabeth smiled at him. Charlotte's words came back to her, and she couldn't help but think that perhaps she had been too hard at him. Perhaps she really _had _overreacted and allowed her childish impressions from a decade ago to unduly influence her opinions and actions. Besides, for some incomprehensible reason, she did not feel at all averse to going out with him. "Of course, William," she answered gently, and was rewarded with his brilliant smile upon hearing her pronounce this name.

"Would… would tonight be agreeable?" He blurted out before he had a chance to temper his excitement.

She smiled and bit her lower hip to prevent herself from laughing. He was truly amusing when he was so boyishly excited. It was almost endearing. No! She cannot think that way. This was Fitzwilliam Darcy, for God's sake, the man whom she had only just now stopped hating. "Sure," she said simply.

"Thank you. I will pick you up at seven. Would that be okay?"

She nodded.

Elizabeth was walking Fitzwilliam to the door, when her phone rang. She saw the name _"Gregory Samberg"_ flash across the screen, and Lizzy frowned at the bad timing.

"Greg?" She said into the phone. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Fitzwilliam's body stiffen and his face flinch at the name of his rival.

"Elizabeth, sweetheart, would you like to go out tonight?" she heard Greg's warm voice sing.

"Um, no, I have plans for tonight. How about tomorrow?"

"Sure, sweetheart. I will pick you up at half past six?"

"Alright. Got to go. Bye, Greg." She hastily closed her phone, and shot Fitzwilliam an apologetic glance. He left the house without another word, his brows visibly furrowed.

Elizabeth watched him walk away, and wondered why she felt so little pleasure at hearing Greg's voice and scheduling their next date. She had liked him, undeniably liked him, and had been looking forward to knowing him better. Yet over the course of only one day, her feelings managed to have changed so dramatically. Why was she no longer excited to see him? Why did she feel guilty when he called in Fitzwilliam's presence? With alarm, she realized that Fitzwilliam influenced her behavior far more than she would have liked. She resolved firmly to think no more of him after tonight, and not to allow him to spoil her pleasant relationship with Greg.


	11. Chapter 11

Larissa Walker was in a grumpy mood. She had been fired from Medalena the night before. Her parents, who had insisted on her having a summer job to cure her pompous, self-indulgent attitude, were incensed, and demanded that she secure a new position immediately. Larissa spent Monday morning visiting restaurants in both Meryton and Netherfield, and was enraged when the most respectable place that would employ her was The Three Crabs. While not altogether lowly, The Three Crabs lacked the splendor of Madelena and many other high-end Netherfield restaurants, and, to Larissa's indignation, was not even the most prestigious place in Meryton. The Three Crabs was an average diner: pleasant, but by no means extravagant. Larissa Walker strove for finer things in life.

Bored with her new job (after all, no rich and handsome men like Fitzwilliam Darcy would ever frequent The Three Crabs!), Larissa stood idly with a few other waitresses, her arms folded across her chest, and a disgruntled scowl displayed on her pretty face.

She startled when shortly after seven o'clock, she noticed a tall, dark, handsome man enter the diner. She was far from the entrance, and could not make out his facial features, but she hungrily took in his figure. He was well dressed, in perfectly cut trousers and a light blue shirt. He looked wealthy, and clearly appeared out of place in the little diner; his walk looked uncertain, as if he had never been at The Three Crabs before, and was unsure of what to expect. Larissa smirked. 'That man would do quiet well,' she thought. With a glare, she eyed a chestnut-curled woman who had walked in with the gorgeous man. The woman looked young and pleasant, in a purple turtleneck sweater and jeans. Larissa was not happy to see the man's companion, but noted how unfit see appeared to be: the young woman clearly lacked the man's class and elegance. The difference in their respective attires said it all. Over the course of the evening, Larissa could steal him away with no doubt. Suddenly, taking a closer look, Larissa felt that both the man and the woman looked familiar; but she brushed that thought away. She also forcefully ignored the murmurs that swept throughout the restaurant when the couple had entered, and unceremoniously walked towards their table, determined to be the gorgeous man's waitress for the night.

On her way, she stole a quick glance at her pocket mirror and straightened out her uniform (God, that coarse black apron was ugly! Nothing to the pretty low-cut white shirts she was able to wear at Madelena).

As she approached the table, Larissa was mortified to realize that the man who had caught her attention was none other than Fitzwilliam Darcy, who had scorned her so harshly the night before! What was worth, the woman next to him was Elizabeth Bennet! That impertinent little minx always managed to attract the handsomest men, Larissa noticed bitterly. Larissa wanted to turn away from the offending couple and trade tables with another waitress, but her traitorous feet carried her to the table, and her well-trained mouth widened in the usual business smile.

"Good evening," she said with much more pleasure and confidence then she felt.

Fitzwilliam frowned when he saw her. "Miss Walker," he said sternly. "Would it be possible to request a different waiter?"

Larissa Walker felt a pang of pain course through her body as she noticed Lizzy's amused smile. Out of sheer stubbornness, she did not acquiesce to Fitzwilliam Darcy's demand. "And do you have any specific complaint regarding my service, Mr. Darcy?" She asked bitterly, daring him to speak.

Mr. Darcy flushed, and mumbled, "No, Miss Walker."

Larissa grinned triumphantly. "In that case, I assume you will be satisfied with my service tonight, Mr. Darcy." And with that, she condemned herself to a painful evening of watching the handsomest man she had ever seen shower his attentions on a girl so wholly unworthy of him as Lizzy Bennet.

When Fitzwilliam Darcy had come to pick Elizabeth up for dinner, he felt embarrassed of the cold manner in which he had earlier responded to her phone chat with Greg. It was not her fault, of course it wasn't, that the young man had to call in his presence. What's more, he had no reason to disapprove of her relationships; she was not his, far from it. When he saw her that evening, he felt an overwhelming desire to apologize for his boorish behavior, but thought better of it. There had been enough apologies for one day. Instead, he decided to be careful not to bring up anything remotely unpleasant, and to instead be as charming and attentive as he could. He was determined to give her a pleasant evening.

To start, he graciously asked her to choose the restaurant for the night. When she proposed The Three Crabs, he flinched. He had not been there since high school. There was nothing wrong with the pleasant diner, but it was not the kind of place the CEO of Pemberley would frequent. But he had determined to temper his pride, and this afforded a perfect opportunity to do so. He smiled, and immediately concurred with Elizabeth's choice. Still, upon entering the diner, he could not help but feel uncomfortable and out of place.

His discomfort visibly increased when he noticed that their waitress for the evening was that same ill-fated girl whose behind he had smacked the night before_. 'Good Lord, has the world conspired against me?'_ He thought with horror, and asked for a different waiter. The girl clearly did not wish to agree, and he could not press his demand any further without being unnecessarily rude to her. He sighed, and hoped that the evening would progress without further fiascos.

And indeed, their dinner conversation was remarkably smooth. Both were surprised to discover the extent of their common interests. Fitzwilliam's passion for philosophy was met by Elizabeth's own interest in European history, and they enthusiastically discussed the works of Nietzsche and Rousseau. They read the same books, enjoyed the same authors. They both liked Sartre and Dostoevski better than Conrad and Tolstoy. Their opinions were similar, yet distinct, and each enjoyed playfully debating just as much as finding a kindred spirit with a similar opinion.

Fitzwilliam marveled at the wonder that was this woman. It was her appearance that had first captivated him: her eyes, her hair, her lips, her figure. Yet all along, from their very first meeting over a year ago, it was the _passion_ of her eyes that drew him so forcefully to her, and that made it impossible for him to forget her months after that fleeting encounter. Now that he was permitted to see further into the passion behind those eyes, into the mind of his beloved Elizabeth, he knew with absolute certainty that he could never_, never _feel this way about anyone else. He loved her before, but he adored her now, worshipped her with all his being, regarded her with admiration and amazement, almost as something divine.

For her part, Elizabeth was amazed at the ease with which they were conversing, but even more at the similarity of the turns of their minds. She was distressed to find that she was actually enjoying their discussion. What was worse – she was enjoying it more than the conversations she had with her other acquaintances. While the chat with Greg at Madelena the night before was certainly pleasant, it was just that – _pleasant_. It was not passionate, invigorating, enthralling, like her current discussion with William. Elizabeth frowned at the realization, mentally scolding herself for giving into this man's charm.

There was a pause in their discussion at this moment, as Elizabeth fought a mental battle within herself, and Fitzwilliam simply looked at her, unable to get enough of the beautiful girl sat across from him.

'_What is going on?'_ Elizabeth asked herself with growing apprehension. _'Why am I actually _enjoying_ myself with Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy? I hated and scorned him only yesterday – what has changed now? I know that his heartfelt apologies this morning, and his eager promises to change, have softened my dislike of him. But no, that is not the real cause, not the real root of my current predicament. The truth is that I _like_ him, that I have never met anyone like him. I have never known anyone so educated, so intelligent, so able to form and articulate such compelling theories and opinions. Yet at the same time, he can be so gentle, so considerate, so understanding. He knows how to listen to the opinions of others, and to concede when he is wrong. He is strong yet vulnerable. His mind is uncommonly intelligent – so well-developed, yet so tolerant, so open to change! Fitzwilliam Darcy is dangerous,'_ Elizabeth told herself firmly. _'He is an attractive, charming man with a mind to fit his body. But I will not give in to him. I will continue on with my life, as if I had never met him. We can be casual acquaintances, but that is all.'_

And with that, she determined to go on her date with Greg the following evening, and to pursue that relationship. It was difficult, almost painful, to make herself disregard the ardent declarations of love that Fitzwilliam had made while kneeling before her that morning. But she could not fully trust him; she was afraid of him. What Elizabeth was not ready to acknowledge to herself, though, was that it was _herself _that she was afraid of: her reaction to William, the feelings the strength of which she had never experienced before. For her feelings towards him had always been strong, if nothing else. She had despised him with ardor, and was now feeling something else with equal intensity – she just did not know what.

Once her resolution was formed, Elizabeth became reticent, and their conversation slowly died out. Fitzwilliam was concerned with her sudden quietness, and regarded her with a softer expression, lovingly attempting to read the thoughts behind her luminous eyes.

At last they finished the meal, Fitzwilliam paid the bill, and escorted his companion out of the restaurant. The evening was pleasantly breezy, and they silently decided to walk.

Approaching Elizabeth's house, he slowly took her left hand in both of his, and stopped in front of her.

"Elizabeth," he began, pronouncing her name with so much tenderness that Liz felt an involuntary shiver pass through her spine. "Thank you so much for tonight. I could never repay you for the happiness you gave me. Your laughter, your amazing opinions, your mere presence, have easily made it the best evening of my life. You make me so happy, Elizabeth, so light and hopeful and happy. You… I… Well, I've told you I love you." He looked down uneasily. "Please, Elizabeth, may I see you again?"

His eyes looked so tender and hopeful, that Elizabeth felt her prior resolve yield momentary. "Um… yes… sure," she mumbled breathlessly, taking in his fine jaw line, his gorgeous lips, his tussled rich hair, and those beautifully expressive eyes. Recollecting herself, she added, more sternly than was necessary: "Not too soon, though, Mr. Darcy. Give me at least a few days." She added, softening, "Please."

Fitzwilliam was confused by the sudden changes in her demeanor, but a bright hope was filling his entire being: she didn't say no! She said yes! "Would this weekend be too soon?" He asked eagerly.

"This weekend would be fine." She smiled.

"We could do anything you like." He was virtually beaming by now. "Perhaps dinner and a show in Netherfield?"

"I would prefer something simple. I think a picnic would be nice. And invite Georgiana. I would like to see her again."

Fitzwilliam flinched at the mention of his sister. He could not tell Elizabeth about the conversation he had with Georgiana the day before. Elizabeth seemed to genuinely like his sister, and he knew that that affection had been returned, until Georgie was overcome with protective concern for her lovesick brother. No, he could not tell Elizabeth of Georgiana's absolutely unmerited, absolutely unreasonable bitterness towards the woman he loved. He stuttered as he said, "I… I don't think Georgie can make it… She has plans… other plans…"

"It's okay," Elizabeth said, trying to ease his discomfort. She added lightly, "Why do you call her Georgie?"

Fitzwilliam smiled sheepishly. "It was her nickname as a kid. She used to like it. As she grew into a teenage girl, she decided that she required a more feminine name, and switched to 'Giana'. But she will always be the little 'Georgie' to me."

Elizabeth involuntarily smiled at the brotherly affection in his tone. They locked gazes for a few seconds, both unable and unwilling to break away.

"I will see you on Sunday, then," at last Elizabeth said softly. "Goodnight, William."

And with that, she walked towards her house, without casting a backwards glance at the man who stood behind, watching her adoringly. The man who was nearly bursting from the feelings of love and hope that were now gracing his chest. The man who was so uncharacteristically happy that he wanted desperately to shout his joy to the world and to skip, carefree, back to his house, singing a jolly tune. And to think that all this joy was caused by a single evening of conversation at a simple diner, and an agreement to share a casual picnic the following weekend.

Elizabeth could not share Fitzwilliam's joy. Instead, she was overtaken with frustration. Frustration at him for suddenly being so considerate and simple, without a trace of his former arrogance and possessiveness. And irritation at herself for agreeing to see him again. At last, she decided that no possible harm could come from a Sunday picnic. They would remain friendly acquaintances, she reminded herself; there is nothing wrong in _that_.

She knew, of course, that he wanted more: much more. He said he loved her, and she fully believed him. But whatever he wanted, nothing would come of it. She reminded herself bitterly how he had hurt girls before, how he had hurt Charlotte, how he had violated her own personal space at the party, and how he touched other women in her presence – twice! Was a day of groveling on his part truly enough to warrant such a change in her opinion? Was she so ready to forgive and forget just because he knelt in front of her and spoke so softly; just because he cheerfully cleaned her house and charmed her family; just because he enthralled her with intelligent conversation, his perfect body, and his loving, imploring eyes? No! Lizzy was a rational creature, and it was not long before she regained her senses. She went to bed with a firm resolution not to let Fitzwilliam Darcy affect her life, a resolution that she was fully determined to keep.


	12. Chapter 12

The first thing Elizabeth Bennet remembered when she woke up the next morning was her resolution to make sure that Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy had no influence over her life. She stretched, smiled, jumped from her bed, and sat gingerly at her desk. She had slept well, and was now awake and energetic. The tumultuous emotions of the previous day were no longer with her; she could think clearly. Without Fitzwilliam's expressive, imploring eyes, carrying out her resolution was simple and easy.

With a quick and cheerful hand, Elizabeth wrote the note.

"_William – _

I would like to thank you for last night. I enjoyed getting to know you. However, while I think we can become good friends, I want to make sure that you understand that there is little possibility of anything more than friendship between us. As you noticed, I had agreed to a dinner-date with Greg for tonight. I fully intend to keep that engagement. What's more, I am by no means averse to continuing to see Greg, and even to entering a more lasting relationship with him.

_I hope you are not affronted by the frankness of this note. I am not sure whether all this is even necessary, as I have no way of knowing what your present intentions may be. I just wanted to make sure that there is no misunderstanding between us._

_All best, and see you next weekend._

_Your friend Elizabeth Bennet"_

Elizabeth smiled as she reread the message. She was very satisfied with the note. Now there can be no misunderstanding: she was not interested in a relationship with Fitzwilliam, and she was free to pursue her romance with Greg. She folded the piece of paper and placed it in an envelope. Half an hour later, fresh from her shower and clad in a pretty white sundress, she deposited the envelope into the mailbox.

As Elizabeth returned and sat at the breakfast table, she was joined by her two youngest sisters.

"I know mom went grocery shopping," Lydia yawned. "But what happened to Mary and Jane? They're not usually ones to wake up after me."

"Mary said something about going to the library, but I don't know about Jane. I thought Lizzy would know…" Kitty looked at Liz expectantly.

Lizzy shrugged. "I haven't heard her say anything about her plans for the morning."

The girls ate their cereals in silence. As Lydia went to the sink to deposit her plate, she noticed a neat piece of paper on the kitchen counter. "Oh, here's a note from Jane! She's gone for a stroll in the park with Charles Bingley." Lydia chuckled. "A stroll in the park – how cute."

Lizzy remembered the shy attentions the couple had paid each other at Fitzwilliam Darcy's soiree, and smiled, happy for her sister, and glad that Charles had finally decided to make a move. "They seem a good match," she said quietly, almost to herself.

Kitty nodded, and Lydia regarded Lizzy thoughtfully for a second, as if remembering something.

"And how about you, Lizzy?" She teased at last. "How was your date with illustrious Fitzwilliam Darcy?"

Lizzy blushed. "Lydie, it was not a date."

"Oh really?" Lydia was beaming at her sister's discomfiture. "He sends you roses, the next day we find him cleaning the house and charming the fam, asking for nothing in return other than your precious company at dinner. God Lizzy, this is Fitzwilliam Darcy, the man you expressly warned me off! I demand to know _everything_!" Lydia finished, pretending to be righteously upset. She was not truly angry, however, for she could see that her sister was not a willing participant in the whole affair. But Lizzy's uncomfortableness was just too fun to watch. This was Lizzy, for God's sake, the girl who never lost her mind and who never had any embarrassing moments!

Lizzy looked down. "Ok, fine. I'll tell you everything there was to this mess. Fitzwilliam made me uncomfortable with some untoward attentions at the soiree; I moved away; then you know what happened. Sunday morning, I found a bouquet from him, with just an apology. Then there was another in the afternoon with an invitation to dinner."

Kitty sighed. "God, that's so romantic, Lizzy! I wish he would do that to _me_…"

Lizzy frowned. "Well, I was _not _happy to be pursued by this man. I thought he was dangerous, Kitty. I still do," she added quietly. "He has played too many girls in his high school years. And he was very cruel to them. He just charmed and then scorned them. I hated the man. Granted, I began to hate him even more after Saturday's soiree."

Realization suddenly dawned on Lydia. "Wait, did he then ask you to dinner yesterday? God, I can't believe I missed it! You were gone, and mama was all upset, and I didn't pay any attention… I can't believe I was so absorbed by Peter." Lydia giggled. "But wait, why was mama upset? Shouldn't she be happy that her daughter caught Fitzwilliam Darcy?" She knitted her brows in confusion.

Lizzy sighed, and admitted. "I accepted Fitzwilliam's invitation, but insisted on bringing a friend. I took Greg with me." She looked sheepishly at her hands while uttering that last sentence.

"You did what?!" Lydia stared at her in amazement.

"You took that Greg boy on your date with Fitzwilliam Darcy?!" Kitty screamed. "Are you crazy, girl?"

Lizzy frowned. "It was not a date. I didn't want to have dinner with Fitzwilliam. But to oblige mama and to embarrass Fitzwilliam, I agreed to come with the conditions that he ate at a separate table and I brought a friend."

"And he agreed to all this?" Lydia could not believe what she heard. Was this really the same Fitzwilliam Darcy? The man seemed crazy about Lizzy.

"Yes." Lizzy looked guilty. "The dinner didn't go very well, and he did something jealous and stupid again."

Kitty squeaked in delight as the juicy story just got juicier. "Ooh, what did he do?"

"He smacked his waitress's bottom."

Lydia laughed. "Wow, that's priceless! The man is crazy about you, and absolutely can't control his temper."

"Well, I think he's getting better," Lizzy admitted meekly.

Lydia continued laughing, leaving the interrogation to be carried on by Kitty:

"And what makes you say that, Lizzy?"

Lizzy shrugged. "He came to apologize yesterday morning. He seemed genuinely determined to change. Well, you saw the rest of yesterday afternoon."

"That we did," Lydia said in between her fits of laughter. "We certainly noticed the spark that the grand CEO of Pemberley added to our kitchen and living room. The individual bouquets of flowers were a nice touch." She smirked. "So, what about your final date last night?"

"It was not a date," Lizzy answered dejectedly, knowing full well that her sisters were not to be convinced. "We had a pleasant dinner at The Three Crabs, and –"

"The Three Crabs?" Kitty interrupted incredulously. "Couldn't he take you somewhere better?'

Lizzy looked annoyed. "It was my choice. I wanted something casual."

"And he agreed?" Lydia mocked. "The grand CEO of Pemberley Corp agreed to eat at a casual diner like The Three Crabs? God, he must be _really _in love with you." She winked at her older sister.

"Anyway, we had a pleasant conversation and got to know each other better. I think there is no more hostility on either side, and we can now be friends." Lizzy finished definitively.

"Friends?" Kitty repeated. "You mean you can now have an amazing boyfriend who is also the sexiest man alive?"

Lizzy shook her head. "No, I mean _friends_. Or acquaintances. Whichever. I sent a note to him this morning to make sure that he did not have any delusions on that account. I would like to continue seeing Greg. As for William: well, he should now know that I intend on having nothing more than a pleasant friendship with him."

Both her little sisters looked on in disbelief. For a few seconds, neither was unable to speak. Then they began shouting excitedly, at the same time.

"How can you pass on _Fitzwilliam Darcy_? He's a damn sex god _and _the wealthiest man in the state! If you don't want him, give him to me, you lucky little bitch!" Kitty was uttering quickly.

"Lizzy, don't you see the man is head over heels in love with you?! I know you didn't trust him, but I think he's done quite enough! Either fuck him yourself, or let me do it, for God's sake!" Lydia was shouting animatedly.

At last they both caught their breaths and calmed down.

Lizzy looked from one sister to the other with an amused expression.

"Seriously, though," Kitty said softly. "He's been _so _romantic." She let out a dreamy sigh.

Lizzy smiled. "Well, I don't mistrust him like I used to. So either of you is welcome to him. As for myself, I have no interest in the man. _And _I got a date with Greg tonight." With that, she gave them a wink, and walked over to wash her cereal bowl. "I'll go take a walk," she said pleasantly, and left her two younger sisters to mull over her gorgeous suitor before their minds were reclaimed by their own guy friends.

When she reached the park, Liz slumped onto the nearest bench. The cheerful mood of the morning had somehow been destroyed by the conversation with her younger sisters. Now, her thoughts inevitably returned to William. Lizzy knew that her sisters' words were essentially true: it was amazing how ardently William loved her. Amazing, almost unbelievable. Yet she did believe him, and thought him almost insane. The ardor of his feelings, the speed with which he had fallen for her, were plainly crazy. Fitzwilliam's passion perturbed Elizabeth, and she did not like to be perturbed. Lizzy sighed, drew a deep breath, and willed her mind to think of something lighter. _'Greg, dinner with Greg,'_ she directed her thoughts.

Suddenly, she spotted a pleasant young girl with long blond hair walking across the park. Elizabeth recognized her friend, whom she hadn't seen in two days, and rushed to the girl's side.

"Giana! How have you been?" Liz smiled, catching up with the girl.

Lizzy was astonished by the cold, almost hateful look the girl gave her. Giana silently increased her pace and began walking away.

Close behind her, Lizzy inquired. "Giana, what's the matter? Are you alright?"

Giana abruptly stopped and turned around. "How dare you?" She spat out in a quiet yet icy voice. "How dare you pretend to be my friend after what you've done to my brother?"

"I don't understand," Lizzy mumbled. "Has something happened to William?"

There was real concern in Liz's words, but Giana was unwilling to hear it. The young girl exploded further in her fit of righteous defense of a beloved brother. "How dare you feign concern for my brother when you torture him so cruelly?"

Lizzy cringed as she realized what Giana might be referring to. "What have I done?" She asked meekly.

"What have you done?!" Giana was fully shouting now. "You reduced him to a lovesick fool who follows you around, and you took advantage of him, laughed at him, mocked him! He begs you for a date, and you bring another man with you! And William, poor soul, is too besotted to oppose! You trample all over him, and he lets you! But why?! Why, Lizzy? If you do not want him, then why do you bother torturing him? Does it give you pleasure to see my brother humiliated and ruined?"

Elizabeth opened her mouth to speak, but Giana wouldn't let her.

"And to think that when I first saw you two together, that day when you ran away, I thought you would be perfect for him!" Georgiana laughed bitterly. "You charmed me as you charmed him, doubtlessly. But I know better now. I see how cruelly you treat him. Is it fun to stamp all over an honest, loving man's life?"

"Giana, please stop. Just listen," Lizzy implored.

"There is nothing you can say that I would want to hear," Giana spat out acidly. Liz was continually impressed by the way the sweet, gentle girl had turned so cold and bitter. This Giana was a mature young woman, not the innocent teenager she had befriended. She even looked older. Liz marveled at the strength of Giana's love for her brother that had brought on this transformation. But there must be something else: this new Giana seemed _too _mature, too aware of the evils of the world. Liz wondered what had caused Giana to know such hatred, such bitterness.

Giana drew a breath, and continued quieter, but with equal intensity. "William is the perfect brother. And a perfect man, I am sure. Any girl would be lucky to be loved by him. It's a pity that it should be you – such an ungrateful, cruel, torturous bitch. I hope he gets over you, soon. I was wrong: you don't deserve him, Elizabeth," she finished gravely and began to walk away.

Stunned, Elizabeth just watched her retreat. Then she shouted after the girl. "Let me say something, Giana!" There was no more imploring in her tone. It was simply commanding, and Giana could not help but stop and listen.

"I don't know what you know, or what your brother told you," Liz said slowly and coldly. "But let me tell you this: he is much less _perfect _than you believe." The adjective was pronounced with sardonic bitterness. "He has done his fair share of cruel things, and even though it may not have been my place to exact revenge, I was the only one able to. And I wouldn't pass the chance."

She saw confusion written on Giana's face, and finished quietly. "It's not my place to enumerate your brother's faults to you, Georgiana. But perhaps you should ask _him _about it. Maybe he will get enough balls to tell you this time. Obviously, he was not man enough to do so before." With that, she turned and walked away from the puzzled girl.

By the time she reached her house, Liz was positively seething. _'That bastard!'_ She cursed mentally. _'How dare he let his sister believe such things about me? If he loved me, truly loved me selflessly and purely, he would never let her hold such an unjust opinion of me just to protect his own image in her eyes. The coward didn't dare tell her what he had done to me, to Charlotte, to everyone else. He chose to ruin my friendship with her for the sake of his own comfort.' _

Liz felt hot tears form in her eyes. She liked Georgiana, a lot. It hurt her that the girl should turn so cold towards her. And she felt, once again, an unabated hatred for Fitzwilliam. And there was something else now: annoyance at herself for having ever stopped hating him in the first place. And even deeper than that, her tears were caused by bitter, desperate disappointment. Although she would not admit it to anyone, she was beginning to feel affectionate towards the man: he excited passionate, thrilling sensations in her. His failure to defend her in front of his own sister, his decision to clear his own reputation at the cost of hers, caused Liz unusual pain, which she, not knowing what else to make of it, swiftly transformed into anger.

Bitterly, she sent him a an email as soon as she arrived in her room:_"The picnic is off. Do not contact me again."_ And with that, she immediately blocked his email address from her account, as well as his cell phone number from her phone.


	13. Chapter 13

"Greg!" Lizzy rushed downstairs and enclosed her friend in a hug.

"Lizzy!" He wrapped his arms tenderly around her, and placed a soft kiss on the top of her head. "God, I've only known you for four days and been apart from you for two, but I already started to miss you," he only half-joked.

She disentangled herself from the embrace and grabbed his hand. "Come on, handsome, lets go. I'm _starving_." She giggled and led the way outside.

They walked together to a nearby café, and settled in for a pleasant, casual dinner.

Greg watched her adoringly as she talked and laughed during the meal. He thought for a moment that he saw a trace of artfulness in her manner, as if she was purposefully putting on an appearance of cheerfulness. But unable to find any reason for such disguise, he dismissed the worry, and rejoiced in her mood.

Greg marveled at the attraction he felt for this girl after knowing her for only four days. He was not from Meryton; his parents had only moved there half a year before. So he had never seen Lizzy until that summer. And as soon as he saw her at Mr. Darcy's soiree, he knew he was interested. She was gorgeous, of course, in that deep green gown of hers. But there was so much more. Her conversation was intelligent and lively. Her smiles were enchanting. And her eyes were simply mesmerizing, irresistible. When he noticed her joking with him and teasing him, he felt himself eager to know her better. When she left their table after some mysterious unspoken disagreement with Mr. Darcy, Greg was surprised to feel the loss of her presence. And when he saw her leaving that night, he just had to get her phone number.

After that, everything just snowballed, Greg reminisced. He called her the very next day, just to chat. He didn't ask her out immediately, deciding to bide his time, not wanting to seem too eager. Besides, his cousin had just arrived to stay with his family, and he was distracted with the other youth's exuberant company. Great was his surprise when Elizabeth called him back and invited him to join her for dinner at Madelena. He was simultaneously confused and exhilarated, and of course consented at once. When he arrived and discovered Fitzwilliam Darcy's limousine waiting for them, his feelings became even more garbled up, as jealousy and anger were added to the mix.

And then there was the strange dinner. The tender glances between himself and Elizabeth, Mr. Darcy's inexplicably strange behavior, the ride home, and the parting kiss. Ah yes, the parting kiss! Greg smiled at the memory. Kissing her felt so right, so good. He knew then that he wanted to pursue a deeper relationship.

He called her the next day, and arranged a date for the day after. She said she was busy on Monday. A frown passed over his pleasant features as he momentarily wondered if it could possibly have been because of Fitzwilliam Darcy. But no, that couldn't be; he had seen how much of a fool Mr. Darcy had made of himself with his waitress, and how much Elizabeth despised the man. But it was only natural for him to be jealous of Mr. Darcy. The man was undeniably extremely handsome, and ridiculously rich as well. Greg could not imagine any girl with enough willpower to reject such a man. But with a smile he mused that this lovely Elizabeth could turn out to be just such a girl.

Once they left the restaurant and slowly walked home, Greg put his arm gently around Elizabeth, drawing her closer.

"Lizzy," he whispered softly, and placed a gentle kiss on her ear. When she rubbed herself slightly against him, signaling her approval of his attentions, he proceeded to nibble gently on her neck.

"Mmm, your skin feels nice," he murmured against her neck, as she wriggled in delight and squeezed his head between her head and shoulder. They were now standing right in front of her house.

He tightened his hold on her waist, turned her towards him, and stroked her face with his other hand. After a few moments of tender caresses, he withdrew softly, and looked seriously into her face.

"Lizzy, I like you a lot," he began awkwardly. "I want to see more of you, to be in a relationship with you. Would you be my girlfriend, Lizzy?" He finished sheepishly, and flushed at his own clumsiness.

Greg was a pleasant, lively young man of twenty-one. He had always been good-looking and charming, and had a fairly extensive experience with girls. Most of his relationships followed the same trajectory: he would meet a girl he liked, ask her out on a few dates; the girl would return his attentions, and they would begin to attend social functions together; eventually, their friends would unanimously start to label them as an item, and they would smoothly make the transition to an official couple; eventually, one of them would tire of the other, and they would break up. When he was the one to break the relationship, he would stutter the typical "it's not you, it's me" lines, guilty for upsetting the girl. Greg was a gentle person. When it was the girl to break it, she would usually tell him that he was sweet, but naïve and boring, and that she thought they wouldn't work.

Something was different about Lizzy that made Greg want to hurry the normal trajectory. She was undeniably a passionate person, and her flame was rubbing off on Greg's normally placid personality. There was also the issue of Fitzwilliam Darcy: subconsciously, Greg wanted to ensure that he got Lizzy as his official girlfriend before the older man could make an analogous move.

And so it was, that Greg did something quite out of character, and asked a girl to be his girlfriend on their second date, after a lengthy acquaintance of all of four days.

Lizzy chucked. "After two dates, Greg?" She asked playfully.

His blush deepened. "I know it's quick. But I'm sure I like you. Besides, we only have a month together…" He faltered. "I mean, I hope we can work something out after and stuff. I just want to start as soon as we can. I want to spend as much time as I can with you this coming month, Lizzy." At last he decided that he was making absolutely no sense at all, and finished simply: "Please?"

She laughed and remained quiet for a while. "All right, handsome," she said at last, and encircled his neck with her slender arms.

Enthralled, Greg embraced her tenderly, and placed a passionate kiss on her lips. He pressed her tighter against him, deepened the kiss, and almost groaned from pleasure. Liz was an amazing kisser.

At last, she withdrew, and let out another laugh. "It's getting late, dearest." She smiled. "Good night."

With that, she placed a very light, chaste kiss on his left cheek, while her arm sensually caressed the corresponding cheek of his behind. This time, Greg did let out a moan, instantly feeling hot. Fully aware of the effect she was producing, Lizzy gripped his bottom tightly, before placing one light smack, and stepped away.

She giggled and ran into her house. Greg drew a deep breath to temper his sudden arousal. God, this girl was amazing!

Dinner at the Darcy house had been far less pleasant.

At first, Fitzwilliam had not noted his sister's unusually gloomy mood. He was too preoccupied with his thoughts of Elizabeth, which put a bright smile on his face when he remembered the pleasant evening they had shared the night before, and a dark shadow when he thought of the dinner she must now be having with Greg. Yet he had not even received her mailed note of friendship (not nothing more), or his mood would have been far less light.

Suddenly Fitzwilliam's reverie was interrupted by Charlie's sister, who had been quieter than usual following his rebuke in the park two days prior, but who was now resuming her attempts to catch the worthy Mr. Darcy's notice.

"William dear, I saw a most delightful bag in the Hermes shop in Netherfield yesterday. I think it would go very nicely with this dress," she was clearly attempting to direct his attention to her remarkably revealing orange dress. "But I wasn't sure… Perhaps you could go to town with me tomorrow to take a look? You have the most amazing taste in fashion!" Her fake smile faltered after a moment at the gentleman's complete lack of response.

Unperturbed, she turned her discourse to the man's sister. "As does Giana, of course. Oh dear, we absolutely _must _go shopping together!"

It was at Georgiana's unintelligibly mumbled response that Fitzwilliam finally noticed his sister's furrowed brow, and her troubled expression.

"Georgie, is anything the matter?" He asked with real concern.

"I saw Elizabeth this morning," she answers simply. Fitzwilliam cringed at those words. He could no longer avoid the unpleasant reality that he had allowed his sister to think unjustly ill of the woman he loved. He now shuddered to think of the exchange that must have passed between the two girls.

"Georgie," he began.

She didn't let him finish. "I told her what I think about her," she pierced his eyes with her own, and he was amazed to see the conviction and the defiance in them. "I told her she is not good enough for you, and that her torturous games are simply disgusting." Georgiana drew a breath. "I hate that woman, Fitzwilliam! And I wish you could forget her." The girl was becoming positively fierce.

Caroline, albeit oblivious to the reasons behind Georgiana's hatred, was elated that the girl was clearly on her side.

"Oh Giana," she chimed in, "how smart you are, my dear! That trollop was never going to bring any good to any of us."

"Caroline," Charles warned meekly. He was too confused by the conversation to say anything before, but was now blushing at his sister's indiscreet intervention.

But Caroline would not be stopped. Rejoicing in what she perceived as a universal thrashing of her rival, she continued unfazed: "The little gold-digging wench was always so far beneath dear William."

"That is _quite _enough." William's voice was loud and cold, and his eyes flashed with anger. Everyone's gaze turned to him in amazement. Calming himself, he continued: "Georgie, what did Miss Bennet reply to your reproaches?"

Goergie's brows furrowed in uncertainly, as she recollected Elizabeth's words, and the confusion they had caused her. "She said… she said you weren't as perfect as I thought, Will. And that I should ask you about your faults, or something. That you were too cowardly to tell me before. But I don't understand! What could there be for you to tell me? She sounded so self-righteous, as if she wasn't wrong to torment you! I don't understand it at all! What do _your _supposed faults have to do with anything? Nothing could possibly excuse her behavior!" She was beginning to regain her anger.

Fitzwilliam sighed. "I am sorry, Georgie," he whispered.

She gave him a confused look.

"I… I should have told you before. God, I should never have allowed you to blame her! What must she think of me now!" And with desperation, he buried his head in his hands, nervously pulling at his rich, messy curls.

"William, what is the matter? Why should _she _think ill of _you_, after all that she's done?" Georgie was by now completely lost.

A moment passed in silence, until Caroline recovered from her shock, and exploded with indignation. "Again! You're doing it again, William! Blaming yourself and acting as if _she _needs an apology now. God, what's gotten into you? Stop acting like a fool because of some ugly whore!"

A fist firmly slammed on the table brought an end to her diatribe.

"Caroline, I said _enough_!" He was yelling now. "I've warned you before, I will do no such thing again. You are _not _welcome in this dining room. OUT!"

Frightened by the incomprehensible scene and by William's unprecedented ire, his three companions remained still. Regaining his senses, Charles at last rose, and softly escorted his sister out of the dining parlor.

Once the Bingley siblings left the room, Georgie regarded her brother with an inquisitive gaze.

"Come, Georgie, lets go to my study," he rose from his seat and attempted a meek smile. "We can talk there."

Once inside, William seated himself at his desk, while Goergie curled up on the couch. He told her the entire story of his dealings with Liz: the unwelcome caress on her thigh (at this his sister looked incredulous); the kiss with Caroline Bingley (here Goergie looked terrified); the ill-fated dinner with Greg (Goerige appeared saddened at this part of the story); the smack on the waitresses bottom (poor Georgiana simply gasped at this); and at last his unbelievable reconciliation with Elizabeth and their wonderful dinner together (here Georgie at last almost smiled, before she remembered her own conversation with Lizzy earlier in the day).

Her brother fell silent and hung his head, awaiting Georgie's reply, her verdict.

"Oh William!" She said at last. "I could never believe all that, if I didn't hear it all from you! It doesn't sound like you at all to be slapping a waitress's ass… and to kiss Caroline Bignley, ewwww, God, Will, what came over you?"

Fitzwilliam sighed. "I'm in love, Georgie. And I've been acting as a jealous fool. But Liz has forgiven me, and granted me the most beautiful evening of my life. God, I love her! I was so happy, so hopeful… but now, now I've messed it all up again." He sighed with frustration.

"Oh brother!" Georgie exclaimed seeing William's anguish. "It will be alright," she said, getting up from the couch and walking towards him to embrace him. "I will talk to her, and everything will be alright."

"I should have told you, Georgie. I should never have let you scold her so unjustly. But I was angry with her at the time. And later, I was simply too ashamed to tell you how I have acted. I was mortified even to imagine what you would think of me." He looked up at her, searching her face with thoughtful eyes. "What _do _you think of me, now?"

She laughed softly. "Only that you are the most hopeless romantic that has ever lived. You love her so ardently, that you are acting quite unlike yourself. But I think I rather like it. You've always been so pound and proper – almost boring, dear brother. Now you're quite a rake," she teased while playing with his hair. Then she turned serious. "But you really should have told me. And I, too, should have been less emotional. I should have at least treated Lizzy with courtesy. But I'll sort it all out. I'm sure she won't stay mad once she knows that you told me, and once I apologize to her and commit myself to be her most devoted friend." She smiled encouragingly at her brother.

"I hope you are right," he sighed. "I cannot even think of losing her. Not now that I'm so sure of how happy I could be with her. Well, I suppose there is nothing left to do except to try and woo her. Perhaps we can do this together? You're the charming one, after all," he winked.

His sister smiled at him. "Of course, my dear."

Finally feeling somewhat relaxed, Will reclined in his chair, breathed in, and turned on his laptop. Amazingly, he hadn't checked his email since morning. As he began to do so, Georgiana turned to exit the room.

Great was his shock when he saw a message from Elizabeth. Greater still was his horror at its contents. "_The picnic is off. Do not contact me again." _He let out a stifled gasp, and looked up at Georgie, who was about to open the door.

She turned around and was shocked to see the look of utter despair on her brother's face.

"She… she does not… want to see me." His voice was breaking as he answered his sister's silent question. "I have lost her, Georgie!"

Georgiana rushed back to her brother's side, and embraced him warmly. "I'm so sorry, Will, so sorry. I know it is all my fault. I should not have shouted at her so."

"No, Georgie… no, dear… it is nobody's fault but mine." And then, in a dejected whisper, "I have lost her, Georgie, just as I was beginning to hope."

And at that, Georgiana received her final shock of the evening. As she stood embracing her brother, holding his head in her arms, she was astonished to feel moisture against her shirt. Fitzwilliam Darcy was crying.


	14. Chapter 14

Jane Bennet had never before been this happy. And that says a lot, since Jane was generally a content, cheerful sort of girl. She was soft and sweet, lacking her favorite sister's vengefulness, stubbornness, and cynicism. She had always been bright and cheerful, a pleasure to all those around her. But also calm, composed, and sedate. Never had she been this close to actually ecstatic.

And the reason for her present unusual merriment? Mr. Charles Bingley, of course. He was everything Jane had ever imagined in a perfect man. Courteous, peaceful, friendly, and incredibly _likeable_. Their tempers were perfectly suited to each other, their mutual affection almost immediate.

Their first date in the park was Jane's very notion of the _perfect _first date. He picked her up early in the morning, and they took a lengthy walk under the shade of the magnificent trees. They simply talked, both enthralled by the similar turns of their minds, by how perfectly they fit together. Falling fast in love with this unearthly beautiful girl, Charles stole stealthy glances at his beloved, and her cheeks flushed as she noticed the adoration in his gaze. At lunchtime, he treated her to a pleasant meal at the park café, after which they continued their conversation lying nonchalantly on the grass. After a few hours spent in such blissful manner, Charles took his lovely angel back to her house, and arranged to take her to dinner the following night.

Jane could hardly contain her excitement as she ran up the stairs to Lizzy's room, wishing to share her newfound happiness with her beloved sister. Although Lizzy smiled brightly at her, and rejoiced in her merriment, Jane could not help but notice her sister's swollen, red eyes. Lizzy had been crying. But why? No matter how hard Jane tried to pry Lizzy's misfortunes out of her, Liz did not give in. Jane never learned what troubled her sister that night, but she noticed that the subtle pain remained with Lizzy for the days and nights that followed.

That evening, Liz had gone out with Greg, and after their date, they became officially an item. They hung out together almost every day after that, going on romantic dinner dates and playful picnics. Jane rejoiced in her sister's clearly easy, light, and merry relationship. And Liz did seem happy. But not as happy as Jane. No, she was not as in love with her Greg as Jane was with her Charles. And sometimes, when she thought no one was looking, Liz was noticed by the carefully observant Jane to have a wistful look in her eyes, as if she was unsure of something, as if she almost regretted something.

Jane wondered if perhaps Mr. Darcy had anything to do with her sister's occasional bouts of melancholy. She had not seen him after the day when he was cleaning their house and the ever-optimistic Jane hoped that he and Lizzy were now a couple. The man loved her sister, that much was clear. But Lizzy always seemed so resentful of him. So when he stopped coming into their lives, Jane thought Liz would be relieved. Yet the fact that Liz's newfound wistfulness coincided perfectly with the disappearance of Fitzwilliam's unwelcome presence from their lives, suggested the opposite. Could Lizzy be missing the man?

But no, that could not be true either. For Jane knew that unfailingly every morning a package arrived from the man for her dearest sister. Every three days, it was flowers – always luscious, expensive bouquets that would brighten any woman's day. And the other times, it would be thoughtful, romantic gifts. A bottle of sweet perfume, a simple yet stunning piece of precious-stone jewelry, a box of exquisite chocolates, a set of sensual bath accessories. It was clear that although he physically retreated from their lives, Fitzwilliam was still at Lizzy's very fingertips. A single nod from her, and he would come rushing back.

So what was troubling her sister? Jane could not understand.

And so she did the only thing she could. She spoke with Charles, in an attempt to gather insight into Fitzwilliam's side of the story.

They were comfortably seated at a quaint little restaurant in Netherfield, waiting for their dinner. It had been little over a week since their first date in the park, but they already felt so uncharacteristically comfortable with each other, as if they had known each other for months, and ready to continue knowing each other for years to come.

"Charles, can I ask you something about… um… Fitzwilliam?" Jane began uncertainly.

"Of course, my angel. You can ask me anything." He smiled at her reassuringly.

"What is going on with him and Lizzy?" She blurted out in response.

Charles signed. "I don't know, angel. About a week ago, there was a strange scene at dinner. Georgiana appeared to be mad at your sister, and said some angry things about her. My own sister, of course, let all her spite out at that opportunity. William appeared perturbed, and claimed that everything was his fault. When Caroline's outbursts became too much for him to bear, I escorted her out of the dining parlor. I do not know the rest of the conversation between the two Darcy siblings. But the next morning they both appeared to be distressed. Georgie has been trying to have a good talk with your sister since then, but Lizzy seems to have shut her out. As to William – I have never seen him this solemn before."

"But… what happened between them? Why does Georgie hate Lizzy? I thought they were friends."

"I don't know, Jane. I've tried asking Will a few times, but he would only glare at me and tell me to leave him alone. He's grown quite anti-social lately."

"I'll try talking to Lizzy."

"I think it's about time. I can't bear to see my friend suffering anymore."

"Charles… I think… I think Lizzy's suffering too."

He gave a quizzical look, bidding her to continue.

"Oh, I don't know. She's been going out with Greg, and appears happy. But every once in a while, I notice something, I don't know what, something in her eyes that makes it seem as if… as if she's not as happy as she looks. As if she's a little confused, unsure about something. I don't know – but could it have anything to do with your friend?"

"I don't know, Jane. But do try talking to her. I'm sure that if there is anyone to whom she'd open up, it would be you." He then pierced her with a very meaningful look. "It's hard _not _to open up to you, my angel. You are the most caring, the loveliest, and by far the prettiest person I have ever met."

With this, he squeezed her hand, and she blushed adorably.

That evening, Jane resolved to approach her sister and get to the bottom of her history with William. She began to act on her firm resolution with a far from firm knock on her sister's door.

At Jane's soft, hesitant knock, Liz invited her to come in and greeted her with a delightful smile.

"Jane dear! How was your date with Charlie?" She teased.

"It was wonderful, Lizzy." Jane could not help her smile. But then she recalled her purpose, and turned grave – or at least as grave as the radiant Jane Bennet could be. "Liz, there's something I need to ask you. You see… um… well… Charlie… Will…" She did not know how to begin. "Charlie says that Will has been miserable lately," she blurted out at last.

Jane knew enough of her sister to detect a slight flinch in her facial muscles. But in everything else, Lizzy appeared completely indifferent. "So?" She asked impatiently.

"Please, Lizzy, tell me everything that has happened between you too."

When Lizzy did not respond, Jane proceeded with some annoyance. "Liz, we have never kept anything from each other. From our earliest childhood, we've been the closest of sisters. Please, don't ruin it now. I know there's something going on. I have seen how he acts around you; I have witnessed him cleaning his head engineer's house; I can see the gifts he sends you every morning. And I can see that something is troubling you. Why can't you just tell me what happened."

"The truth, Jane, is that nothing terribly apocalyptic really happened. But here, I'll tell you everything there is to tell." And with that, she recounted faithfully their entire story, from his hand on her thigh and his lips on those of Caroline Bingley, to Georgie's harsh words just as she had begun to think of him as a friend.

"So you see, Jane, I am very confused. I was thinking that this man had changed, that he genuinely loved me. And even though I did not desire his love, I thought we could at least be friends. And I really liked Georgie. But when she attacked me like that, it really hurt. It hurt to lose my friend, and I am angry at him for causing that loss."

Jane shook her head in amusement. "No, Lizzy, that is not what troubles you. I think you had much deeper feelings for William than you were willing to admit. I think that deep down inside, you _could _imagine a relationship with him. And you were hurt that he did not stand up for you in front of his sister."

"I did _not _want to be with him, Jane!" Liz replied vehemently. A little too vehemently, Jane thought slyly. "But regardless, I shall never see him again now."

"I think you are over-reacting, Liz. Really, you are being like a spoilt little child!" Jane finally let out her frustration with her silly sister.

Surprised that the angelic Jane could actually act annoyed, Lizzy inadvertently gave in. "And what do _you _think I should do, Jane?"

"Well, at the very least, talk to Giana. Stop pushing her away. Charles said she's been trying to reach you. Talk to her. After all, it was not the poor girl's fault, and you could still get your lovely friend back." Jane's lips went up in a sly smile. After all, she knew that a reconciliation with Giana would eventually lead to a reunion with Will. It was the natural first step.

Lizzy thought for a moment, and then let out a heavy sigh. "You are right, Jane. I have been unreasonable. I'll talk to Giana some time next week."

"You should do it soon, dear. I heard that she'll be leaving on a trip with some boarding school friends in a few days. Why don't you call her tomorrow?"

"I will, Jane." And Lizzy gave her a loving smile. Just as her sister was about to leave her room, she called after her: "Thanks."


	15. Chapter 15

The next morning, Liz awoke with a somewhat difficult feeling. She knew that Jane was right; she knew that she had to speak with Giana and, depending on how well that went, potentially with William. And deep down in her heart she knew that Jane was right about something else as well: Liz really _had _been acting like a spoilt little brat. She had taken Will's love for granted, idealizing it and basking in it, without ever giving a thought to relieving him or considering _his _feelings. True, he had acted stupidly more than once, but in all honesty, it must have been very difficult for him – to love and to be so continually rejected. And truth be told, at the end Liz had come to _enjoy _his love, his devotion. She had begun to build it up as almost unearthly perfect. And when he made his latest misstep, clearing his own reputation in front of his sister at the expense of Lizzy's, all of Liz's illusions of his ideal love came crushing down. She was bitterly disappointed, and now that disappointment turned into blind, irrational anger and resentment. Jane was right: Liz had been acting as a spoilt child denied a favorite toy, and too weak to face the problem head on.

That had to end. She had to at least see Giana. There had been no reason to ignore all of the poor girl's calls. Liz had prohibited William from contacting her, and he had respected her wishes – he only sent gifts every day. But beyond the initial note of apology ("_I am terribly sorry; that is all I can say and more than you probably wish to hear. Should you ever find it in your heart to consider forgiving me, know that I will be waiting for you," _it had said), there was not a single message from him.

But Giana? What had Giana ever done to her to be thus ignored?

Lizzy sighed. This will be difficult – contacting the girl after days of ignoring her calls. But it had to be done. And with a slight frown, Lizzy picked up the phone and dialed Georgiana Darcy's number.

The conversation was stifled and quick. The two girls arranged to meet up for lunch. Nothing more was said, nothing at all of significance. There seemed to be some unspoken agreement between them, that it would be better to discuss things in person, and to ignore everything over the phone.

As Lizzy approached the little café and noticed Giana's pretty blond locks, all her unease suddenly disappeared. There was nothing to fear or regret. The girl was an angel, and Liz felt herself eager to resume the acquaintance.

"Giana!" Lizzy called as she took the seat opposite from the girl.

"Oh Liz! How lovely it is to finally see you!" Giana swiftly got up and gave Liz a greeting hug.

"I'm… oh God, I am so sorry for not getting back to you sooner!" Liz spat up, coloring slightly as the girl's exuberant greeting made her embarrassed of her own boorish conduct. She had not anticipated this eager greeting; despite her own merriment at seeing Giana, she had thought that the meeting would start out as awkward, and that it would take them some time before they could return to the easy friendship they had shared before their disastrous meeting in the park a little over a week before.

"Goodness, Lizzy, you have nothing to apologize for! It is I who should be sorry. I cannot believe the way I treated you last time we spoke! I am so, _so _sorry! Please, could we just forget everything and go back to being friends?" She gave the most radiant smile, while batting her eyelashes and giving Liz the most adorable pleading look. Georgiana Darcy was normally shy, and would never be this forward, especially with someone whom she had so grievously insulted. But for her brother, she was now being the boldest she had ever been. William needed Lizzy, and Georgiana would do anything to help her brother charm the girl.

Her childish charm seemed to work, since Lizzy readily returned her smile and said in return. "I would like nothing better than to forget everything that passed between us, Giana, and start over as your friend."

The two girls shook hands in a theatrical gesture, giggled, and ordered their food.

They chatted for almost an hour about nothing in particular. Liz was amazed at how easy things were between them. And somewhere in the back of her mind, she wistfully wished that everything could be just as pleasant and easy between herself and the other Darcy sibling. She could not help but notice every once in a while some similarity between Giana and William. The line of the nose, the curve of the brow, the endearing combination of eagerness and nervousness. She could not help but smile at these observations, and at the same time mentally chastised herself for them. The fact that William was placed so permanently in her subconscious, even now, after over a week of not seeing him, was utterly unnerving.

When they at last asked for the check, Lizzy noticed that her companion suddenly turned silent and fidgety. It was clear that Georgiana wanted to say something, yet could not muster the courage to do so. Lizzy contemplated ways to encourage the girl, but at last settled for reclining back in her chair, piercing Giana with an encouraging look, and waiting patiently.

Her approached seemed to work, since Georgiana furrowed her brows, and began uncertainly. "Lizzy… I know I have no right to ask… I mean, it's not my place… but – well – could you – maybe sometime – could you see William, please?" She spat out at last.

Lizzy frowned. She knew that this would come up eventually in their chat. Indeed, it would have been simplistic to think that Giana had been oblivious to the situation between Liz and Darcy, and that she had not had a hidden agenda of bringing the two of them together. Since Giana had clearly learned the truth of the impropriety of her earlier accusations, then she must have spoken to William about it. Liz could only imagine what the man could have told his sister, and how she now felt about ruining what she could well consider a potential blossoming relationship between him and Liz.

"Giana, I –" Liz began, but was cut of abruptly.

"Oh Lizzy! Please, you must understand! He has been so unhappy. And he was so, _so _sorry for not having told me everything straight away. He felt so bad when he learned how I had accused you. I know that you probably thought he was being selfish and what not. But really, you misunderstand him. He never meant me to scold you. Please, can't you give him a chance?" Dread that Liz would refuse her request had filled Georgiana with unexpected boldness, and she now spoke quickly and passionately.

Lizzy smiled at the girl's desire to help her brother. In her heart, she noted with warmth that she would without a doubt be doing the same for Jane.

She nodded and said, "Of course, Georgiana. Of course, I will talk to him."

Giana's face lit up in a brilliant smile, and she clapped her hands. Lizzy felt real happiness at the girl's joy. But Giana's next question extinguished the warmth she was feeling.

"When, Lizzy? Maybe tomorrow?"

Liz shifted uncomfortably. It was easy enough to agree to see William if it meant making darling Giana happy, but once she was faced with the actuality of meeting him, she suddenly felt uncomfortable.

"Um… maybe not tomorrow… I mean… I need some time. I… well, I have a girls' day out with Charlotte and Jane tomorrow, and I'm meeting Greg's family on Saturday, and… well… I just… I don't know."

Georgiana frowned. "I am leaving Saturday morning. That's in less than two days. But please, please promise me that you'll talk to him before the end of the week."

At this, Giana gave a beseeching smile that Lizzy absolutely could not deny. "Ok," she mumbled. "I promise."

"Thanks, dear! I'll see you when I come back!" Georgiana gave Liz a tight parting hug, and the two girls parted ways.

The next morning, Lizzy managed to almost completely forget about their conversation and the feeling of nervousness that the prospect of seeing William again instilled in her. She enjoyed a lovely day with her favorite sister and her very best friend. Jane was clearly happy that Lizzy had spoken with Giana and was planning to meet with Will, but she was conscious of Liz's internal struggle, and managed to be her usual supportive self for the entire day. Lizzy could not be happier. She delighted in the company of these two girls, two of her most favorite people in the world.

The next day, Liz registered vaguely that it was now Saturday morning. Giana was leaving for her trip to Bermuda with boarding school friends, and Liz had exactly one weekend to make good on her promise to the sweet girl and speak with Fitzwilliam Darcy.

But not today, Liz thought lazily. Today, she would spend the day with Greg and his family. They had planned a day out hiking followed by a cozy home cooked dinner. Liz was happy to finally get to know her boyfriend's family. They had only been dating for a little over a week, and today was the first day that both of his parents were free to welcome her properly and spend a day together with her.

She would have to contact William tomorrow, on Sunday. She thought for a moment how best to do it, and decided that an impromptu in-person meeting was definitely the way to go. Yes, she would come to his house at lunchtime and end their silent streak. But what would she say, exactly? It was not as if she actually had anything to discuss with him; she did not even really want or need to see him. She was going only because she _had _to – because she had promised to Georgiana to do so. Well, she could at least tell him that she had forgiven him. Yes, that was it.

Lizzy smiled, and got ready for the day. She put on shorts and a sporty t-shirt, completing her outfit with a pair of nice deep blue sneakers. Her hair was up in a high ponytail. Perfect for a hiking trip.

As she was passing her living room on the way out of the house, she called out a cheerful goodbye to her family, to which her mother replied from the living room couch:

"Oh Lizzy, come see this! It's Mr. Darcy on national television!"

Reluctantly, Elizabeth walked into the room and glanced at the TV screen. There, see beheld the imposing and gorgeous Fitzwilliam Darcy giving an interview to CNN. '_What the fuck?!'_

Apparently, his business had just made an important acquisition. Then another thought suddenly hit her: _'Wait, from this interview it looks like he is in NYC! What if he's not back tomorrow? I was going to talk to him… I promised to Giana…" _She began to panic. Collecting herself, she addressed her mother, feigning indifference as best she could:

"So he's in New York now?"

"Oh, now this was taped a while ago. Your father said that Mr. Darcy was only gone for a day and got back into town yesterday afternoon." She then regarded her daughter for a second, and suddenly remembered something. "Just look at that man, Lizzy! _Look _at him!" She pointed at the screen, her agitation noticeably growing. "He's hot, he's rich, he's incredibly successful! He seems to have gotten even more successful this past week! This new acquisition has made him a fortune. And he wanted _you_! Just think about that! What more did you need, stupid girl? What the hell is wrong with you?!" She wrinkled her nose in disgust. "And what on earth did you find in that filthy Greg boy?"

Liz had had enough. "Bye, mother. See you tonight."

With that, she swiftly opened the front door and literally ran out of the house.

Finally approaching Greg's house, Lizzy steadied her breath and willed her stupid stubborn mind to stop thinking of Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy. _'I am going to have a nice afternoon_,_' _she told herself determinedly.

And forcibly plastering a cheerful grin on her face, she knocked on Greg's front door.

Mrs. Samberg opened the door and enveloped Lizzy in a warm hug. "Lizzy! We finally get to meet you!" She smiled.

"It's a pleasure meeting you, Mrs. Samberg," Lizzy answered politely and stepped inside.

She was then greeted by Mr. Samberg and then Greg, who embraced her lovingly and placed a chaste but ardent kiss on her right cheek.

Only then did she notice a youth standing slightly further back, sporting a charming smile that rivaled Greg's. _'This must be the younger cousin Greg has told me about. The one that used to go to the same boarding school as Giana.'_ And she could certainly see the resemblance. The youth was as cheerful and handsome as Greg, with noticeably similar eyes and cheekbones. But his lips were somewhat fuller, and his hair a luscious chestnut rather than Greg's brilliant golden brown. Lizzy wondered with amusement, if this boy were a few years older and she did not have a boyfriend, whether she would be romantically interested in him. No, she chastised herself mentally, two men is confusing enough.

At that moment, the youth approached her, and introduced himself. "Greg's cousin, George Wickham." He gave her a disarming smile. "A pleasure to finally meet you, Lizzy."


	16. Chapter 16

The three members of the Samberg household, Elizabeth Bennet, and George Wickham enjoyed a lovely hike in a nearby wilderness reserve. The sun was high and scorching, and their cozy party of five found shady shelter under a large maple tree.

"Have you heard about Pemberley's new acquisition, Lizzy?" Greg's mother asked pleasantly, but the question incited far from pleasant feelings in the pit of Elizabeth's stomach. Not only was the name of Pemberley inextricably connected to that of Fitzwilliam Darcy, but the memory of that morning's news broadcast about the acquisition brought the mildly painful recollection of Elizabeth's mother's violent reaction and harsh words.

"Um… yes, I have. I saw Mr. Darcy's interview on CNN this morning," Lizzy replied politely, in as steady a tone as she could.

Out of the corner of her eye, Lizzy noticed both Greg and George flinch momentarily. Greg's reaction she immediately attributed to residual jealousy to Fitzwilliam's former advances, but George's hostility she could not understand quite as easily. Had Greg perhaps shared all that had happened between herself and Fitzwilliam with his young cousin? Lizzy frowned at this thought.

"It seems Mr. Darcy is becoming quite the business man." Mr. Samberg remarked jovially. "As his head accountant, I've had a privileged glance into his finances, and boy is the man doing well!" At this, the merry elderly man made a playful whistle.

Greg's frown deepened, and Lizzy somehow felt uncomfortable. She was closer to Fitzwilliam than either of the Samberg parents could guess; she was _too _close. Little did anyone know that all of Pemberley's assets could probably be laying in front of her feet if she so desired!

Lizzy did not respond, and remained silent as conversation moved to a different topic. Deep in her thoughts, she had failed to noticed that George Wickham had moved to sit right by her, until his voice broke her out of her reverie.

"You look uncomfortable, Lizzy. Do you know Mr. Darcy well?" The youth asked asked, all charm and innocence.

"Um… no… I mean, somewhat." She was flustered and taken by surprise, but soon regained her composure. "Everyone knows him in Meryton, George."

He gave out a short laugh. "Yes, it seems he's in charge of the entire town."

Lizzy nodded absentmindedly. But this point, lunch was finished and the entire party rose to continue on the hike. Lizzy, still lost in her own thoughts, and George, who appeared to have attached himself to her side, soon fell behind the other three. Greg was in eager conversation with his father about his studies, and Mrs. Samberg had to take a call from a friend and had walked off to the side somewhere.

"It's ironic, actually, that of all places, I should end up in Meryton, the little town that is so entirely at that man's mercy," George remarked pensively. This got Lizzy's attention, and she turned abruptly towards him.

"Do you know Mr. Darcy, George?"

"Somewhat," George remarked nondescriptly, gauging Liz's reaction. "I went to the same school as his sister, so I knew the family well."

"Ah," was all Lizzy said.

"I was very fond of his father," George continued.

"And the son?" Lizzy was unable to contain her curiosity.

George gave her a lop-sided smile. "I would request that you tell me your opinion first."

Something about the way he said that unnerved Lizzy, but she was not in a mood to argue, and besides her curiosity had gotten the better of her, so she readily gave in. "We have not been on speaking terms lately," she replied simply. That did not direct say that she disliked the man, but gave George enough of a prompt to continue his own speech.

"Well, I cannot say that I have been on speaking terms with him lately either," he said with brilliant smile.

Liz simply cocked one eyebrow in question.

"I don't know if I should tell you this…" George began demurely. "But I had the misfortune to discover that the son is nothing like his father. Mr. Darcy Sr. was truly the best and more generous of men!"

After a pause, gauging her reaction and taking encouragement from her smile, he continued. "My parents had been friends with the Darcys. My parents were much poorer, in fact my father worked as a chauffeur or Mr. Darcy once. But George Darcy was a good and open-minded man. I think there was real friendship between them. When they died a few years ago, George Darcy took me under his wing. He paid for my schooling, and sent me to the very best boarding school, the same one where he sent his own daughter. He was like a father for me, or the closest I knew to a parents since mine passed away."

He looked so genuinely forlorn at this, that Lizzy warmly squeezed his hand. "I'm so sorry for your loss, George."

"Thank you." He smiled at her warmly. "It was a deep and painful shock to me when Mr. Darcy also passed away a few months ago. I was in such utter despair, that at first I had failed to notice the animosity that his son, Fitzwilliam, was showing towards me. He cut my allowance substantially, and suddenly I found myself hard-pressed to afford the books. I had to take a part-time job to help myself cover the expenses. I don't know why Fitzwilliam disliked me so much. I thought that perhaps he was just being stingy. After all, he did not share his father's attachment to me; he was not my surrogate parent. But it was more than that; he seemed somehow bitter towards me. As if he resented me out of jealousy for his father's attachment towards me."

He stopped here, but not receiving any visible response from Elizabeth, took a deep breath and continued with his story:

"It became far, far worse when he discovered my relationship with Georgiana." He heard a soft gasp escape Elizabeth at this piece of information. "I have loved Giana for years, and we began dating last May. It was the greatest and happiest thing that ever happened to me. We never hid our relationship. We knew that George Darcy would not deny his daughter love. So I know not why Fitzwilliam was so surprised to discover us together two months ago. Well, discover us he did, and he evidently did _not _like what he learned. Ha! A chauffeur's son was clearly not good enough for a Darcy woman! He must have high expectations of her marrying well, and no consideration for her own love. Giana loved me as I loved her. We were both heart-broken. But Fitzwilliam was ruthless. Not only did he immediately cut off my boarding school funding and had me instantly expelled, but he actually charged me for _raping _her! Raping my love, my life, my girlfriend! Can you believe that? I had to spend two weeks in juvenile detention, before they concluded that they could not actually convict me. My life has not been the same since." He sighed and lowered his head.

Lizzy shook her head in wonder. "I don't know what to say…" She mumbled uncertainly. Her poor brain had received far too much information for her to process immediately.

George let out a bitter laugh. "I understand that. What can be said to such shameless cruelty? To such blatant disregard not only for his father's wishes but for his sister's feelings as well? Mr. Darcy had promised me an education, a future. Georgiana Darcy had given me the greatest treasure of all: her heart. And Fitzwilliam Darcy took it all away. And now here I am, infringing on the hospitality of the closest relatives I have, the Sambergs. They are nice and kind to me, but I have never been that close to my aunt and uncle. My mother had a rift with Mr. Samberg, her brother, a number of years ago and I hardly ever saw them. I cannot stay here long, I cannot infringe on them much longer. Besides, I hate being in Meryton, of all places! Where the entire town appears to be consumed with the grand Mr. Darcy!" He made a bitter snort.

"Do Mr. and Mrs. Samberg know about all that has happened?" Lizzy asked suddenly, remembering how warmly the couple generally spoke of Fitzwilliam Darcy.

George shook his head. "No, I haven't told them. How could I? They work for him, they admire him, I couldn't turn their lives upside down. No, I have resigned to live out my misery in silence." He paused for a moment. "Until I met you, of course. Somehow, I felt that I could tell you this in all confidence. It feels so good to finally share this with someone."

He gave her such a beautiful smile, that Lizzy finally felt something akin to pity for him, and pronounced earnestly. "I'm sorry, George, for everything that happened to you." They smiled warmly at each other. Then she asked: "So what will you do now?"

He shrugged. "Oh, I don't know. I haven't received my high school diploma since I was expelled a month before my graduation," he said ruefully. "I suppose I will move somewhere and attempt to redo my last year at a regular public school. Get a job to support myself." He ran a hand nervously through his head. "I don't know…"

Lizzy smiled at him encouragingly. "I'm sure you'll be fine. You're a fighter, George." She rubbed his shoulder reassuringly, and the two young people joined the rest of their party, proceeding with their hike in silence.

Lizzy was unusually quiet for the rest of the afternoon and throughout dinner. She was deep in thought, processing all that George had told her. Was it true? She could see no reason for it not to be; no motive for George to invent such an elaborate, preposterous story and to groundlessly accuse such a prominent men of such grievous misdeed. No, it had to be true. But something told Lizzy that it absolutely _couldn't _be so. Fitzwilliam certainly had his share of faults, conceit, self-indulgence, and arrogance among them. But he could not be quite _that _bad. Lizzy had seen deep into that man's soul, she had witnessed his genuine remorse at having hurt Charlotte, his earnest assurances that he would attempt to change. It was for her, of course, because he had somehow fallen desperately in love. But could a man that bad truly be this loving? She could easily imagine Fitzwilliam Darcy being snobbish enough to frown at a chauffeur's son. And he was not selfless enough to willingly sponsor a random youth's education. But she could not quite fathom that he would so cruelly break his own sister's heart. She had seen too much of his affection towards Georgiana. And what's more, Giana's own unconditional love towards her brother would have never been quite so strong if he had purposefully separated her from the man she loved for absolutely no good reason. Besides, while he was reserved and snobbish, could Fitzwilliam Darcy really be so strongly against love without money or connections? That did not sound at all like the man who knelt in his head-engineer's driveway, beseeching her not to chase him away. The man who so relentlessly pursued _her_, a college student from Meryton with neither money nor social standing.

Lizzy's troubled thoughts were momentarily interrupted by Greg as he was walking her home.

"Darling, is anything wrong? You have been awfully quiet all afternoon." He sounded genuinely concerned.

"Yes, dear, I'm fine." She smiled at him as cheerfully as she could.

"You've hardly spoken a work in the past two hours. Even mother has been worried about you."

"Oh, Greg, I am awfully sorry! Please apologize for me to your parents. I did not mean to come across as rude!"

"On the contrary, dear, I think they both loved you." He gave her hand a loving, reassuring squeeze. "They were just worried about your well-being… as am I."

She smiled at him, and gently stroked his cheek. "I'm fine, Greg, really. Just awfully tired. Perhaps it was the sun. I think I will take a nap."

"Yes, you should rest yourself." He kissed her gently and smiled at her, but she could see disappointment in his eyes. He had planned on spending the evening with his girlfriend, and was now loath to part with her company.

"I will, love. I'll see you tomorrow!"

"Yes, tomorrow." He gave her one parting kiss and watched her enter the house, his disappointment somewhat appeased by thoughts of the following evening's dinner date.

Once inside, Lizzy could not help but go back to replaying that afternoon's conversation with George in her mind. It troubled her, exceedingly. She could not decide whether or not she believed the young man. She had no real reason to think he was lying, yet she was not willing to fully and unconditionally believe him either.

And then an even more important question struck her: what should she do about William? Should she still see him tomorrow? Yes, she certainly should. The new information she had learned from George was no reason to alter her intention of speaking to William. She had promised to Georgiana that she would do so, and she still fully intended to let him know that she had forgiven him and was no longer prohibiting all contact with him. Besides, if anything, she now had an additional reason to meet him: she could ask him about George Wickham's accusations straight out. She would get his side of the story, and then perhaps she would no longer be quite so confused. Yes, tomorrow morning she would head straight to the Darcy mansion.


	17. Chapter 17

The following morning, Lizzy awoke with a funny feeling of uneasiness and anticipation. She could hardly wait to speak to Mr. Darcy, and this surprised her. Only yesterday, she was dreading the prospect of seeing the man again, and now she was restless to do precisely that! What had brought about this sudden change in her disposition? Well, truth be told, she was _still _dreading their meeting, but it was now the sort of dread that made her wish to have the entire ordeal over with rather than causing her to postpone it. And in addition, George's remarkable story filled her with curiosity and something else. Even though she could not quite place that additional feeling, deep down inside Lizzy desperately wished for Fitzwilliam to contradict George's account and acquit himself from the grave accusations. Deep down inside, Lizzy really hadn't believed George's words – or at least wished urgently not to believe them.

Quickly dressing and grabbing a toast for breakfast, Lizzy gingerly stepped out of her house. She had planned to see Fitzwilliam at lunchtime, but now she simply could not wait, and rushed to his house at the early hour of 9AM.

Reaching his mansion, Lizzy slowed down. She had never been here before, safe for his awful soiree, and realized how silly she had been in thinking that the least awkward way to perform the task at hand would be to come to his house rather than first give him a call. But being as impatient to clear the air as she was, Liz did not let her unease change her mind, and strode comfortably to the grand building's front entrance.

Upon her ring, the door was opened by a pleasant elderly lady. "Good afternoon, how may I help you?"

"Um… Is Fitzwilliam Darcy at home?" Lizzy suddenly found her voice failing her. She had not expected to door to be opened by anyone else. And who was this woman? She was old enough to be Fitzwilliam's mother, but Lizzy knew that his mother had passed away years ago. So who was this? A visiting relative perhaps? But then why would she be there when Fitzwilliam was away?

Lizzy's confusion must have been written on her face, because the lady smiled sweetly, and spoke:

"No, sorry dear, he just stepped out a moment ago. I am his housekeeper, Mrs. Reynolds," and she extended a hand.

Lizzy hurriedly shook it, and schooled her facial features into a smile, masking her surprise. "I am Elizabeth Bennet. A pleasure to meet you." She felt silly not having known that Fitzwilliam Darcy would have house staff. The thought had simply not even entered her mind. Clearly, they moved in very different social spheres. For a moment she recalled Fitzwilliam's tidying efforts and she almost laughed at the thought. Apparently, the grand Mr. Darcy had cleaned _her _house, but probably never had to tidy his own!

"Would you like to leave a message, Elizabeth?" Mrs. Reynolds asked politely.

"No, no – thank you. I-I guess I'll be going then. Good bye."

And she hurriedly walked away from the house.

'What should I do know? Come back later? But what if he's not back? Oh God, why couldn't I have thought of asking Mrs. Reynolds when he would be back! Well, I guess that failed,' she thought sardonically about her miserable attempt at approaching Fitzwilliam.

Embarrased, Lizzy began to walk back to her house, when she suddenly noticed two familiar men a few meters in front of her. Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy and Mr. Charles Bingley were walking together and shared an animated chat. Apparently, the day was not as miserably as Liz had thought. Lizzy was about to approach the two men, when she heard the word "Jane" spoken by Mr. Darcy.

Lizzy was usually in favor of eavesdropping, but this time she just could not resist. They were speaking about Jane, and she absolutely had to hear what they had to say! Smiling, Lizzy tried to subtly move closer to the two men so that she could overhear more of their conversation. Her mission was interrupted for about a minute by an elderly man asking for directions to the local courthouse. As soon as she had gotten rid of him, she sped up to catch up with Ftizwilliam and Charles. She knew how fond Charles was of her sister, and was eager to hear what sweet, pleasant things he and William would say about her dear Jane.

Great was her shock when, once she got close to them again, she overheard Fitzwilliam exclaim: "She's a gold-digger, Charles! Can't you see?"

Lizzy was positively astonished, but she could not let her emotions overtake her just yet. She had to hear more. Tuning in her ears, she attempted to decipher more of their conversation. Unfortunately, both men lowered their voices following Fitzwilliam's outburtst.

"I'm sorry, William," she heard Charles say.

Then she could only make out some of Ftizwilliam's words: "… you're so sweet … she's so materialistic. I can't believe …"

"I'm sorry, William, it's just that …" Charles sounded guilty and almost dejected.

"But this has to stop!"

"… of course, I will …"

"… sick of her … her disgusting schemes … doesn't love … only money …"

"… think I should leave?"

"I'm sorry to say it … would be best. This needs to stop. I could part with your company if it meant … safe from a gold-digger, and … Charles."

"I'll leave tomorrow."

"… glad … you have a backbone … " Finally, Fitzwilliam gave Charles a friendly pat on the back, and the two continued in silence.

Lizzy could not believe her ears. Ad if in a daze, she stopped in the middle of the road, no longer wishing to follow Charles and William, no longer wishing to ever speak to the latter at all. How could she have been so mistaken? How could she ever think that there was anything more to William than callousness, selfishness, and snobbery? He had broken Charlotte's heart years ago; now he was cruelly breaking Jane's. How could he? Lizzy felt hot tears stream down her face, and did not even bother to wipe them. She did not care about the curious glances she was receiving from the passerby's. She did not care about anything at all, except the hurt about to be inflicted on her favorite sister, and the pain that was now residing in her own chest. Something in her heart was breaking; something she had not known even existed.

Bitterly, Lizzy noted that now she could easily believe all of George's words. If Fitzwilliam was so heartlessly breaking the blossoming love between Charles and Jane, what possible reason did she now have to doubt that he could have done to same to George and Giana? None. Indeed, she now believe all of George's story, and had no wish to verify it with Fitzwilliam. In fact, she had no wish to ever see that man again. She hoped desperately that he could leave her life forever; he had already caused enough pain.

Dejected, Lizzy slowly made her way back to her house. She had not even noticed as she had arrived there; she was in a slumber, as if she was sleep-walking.

Once inside, she ran straight to Jane's bedroom.

"Oh Jane!" Lizzy exclaimed, encircling her sister's neck in an overwhelming hug and letting out all of her frustrated tears onto her sister's shoulder. "Oh dear, dear Jane!" And she succumbed to uncontrollable sobs and wails.

"Lizzy, darling, what is the matter?" Jane lifted her sister's face with her warm, soft hands, and looked into Lizzy's eyes with concern and confusion, beseeching her to speak

"Charlie… Oh Jane! It's Charliee… he's… he's… gone!"

"What are you talking about, silly girl? I had just had dinner with him only last night. He is certainly still here." And then, with palpable worry: "Lizzy, dear, what is the matter with you?"

"I… I overheard him talking to William… He said he would be leaving soon… to-to-tomorrow!"

Jane furrowed her eyebrows. "Are you sure you heard that correctly, Lizzy? Did you ask them anything about it?"

"N-no. How could I? I was so angry and upset. How dare William say those things about you!" And with a renewed burst of tears, she encircled Jane's waist even tighter.

Jane paled. "Wh-what things?"

"He… oh God, it is too vile to repeat! He called you a gold-digger! He said you don't love Charles, that you only have designs on his money. He was so rude, so mean about it. He said that he doesn't want Charles to stay around if it means seeing him with you!"

"W-William said that?" Jane breathed out, barely audibly.

"Yes, Jane! Yes! Oh God, I hate him!"

Jane shook her head. All of this simply did not make sense. What had she ever done to merit Fitzwilliam Darcy's reproach? What was more: how could Charlie forsake her so easily. No, this certainly did not make sense. And as such, the sweet and rational Jane discarded it as simply not true.

"Lizzy, darling, you said you didn't actually speak to them. You only overheard them. There is no certainty that you heard everything correctly. Please, stop worrying. Everything will be alright."

"Oh Jane, you are so willing to believe the best of people! But I _know _what a heard." And she shook her head dejectedly.

"Come, dear, I think you should rest."

Jane escorted her sister to her own bedroom, and stroke Lizzy's hair lovingly before turning off the light and departing, softly closing the door.

After several hours of half-awake tears, Lizzy finally drifted into a normal sleep. She awoke shortly after lunch, and was grateful to find a little tray with sandwiches that Jane must have left there for her. Liz had no intention to exit her room that day, nor did she wish to see anyone. With a wistful sign, she canceled her dinner date with Greg. She was not in the humor to pretend to be cheerful, and she absolutely could not let him see her red, swollen eyes.

Lizzy knew, of course, that Charles's leaving meant that Jane needed more comforting than she did. But Jane did not appear to believe her. So for the time being, her elder sister remained calm and cheerful, and it was she who was taking care of Lizzy. But it was only for the time being, Lizzy knew. Tomorrow would come, and with it the devastating news of Charlie's departure. Tomorrow, it would be Jane who would need her, Lizzy. And Liz now indulged in this gray day of wallowing in tears so that tomorrow she would wake up strong and ready to help her sister.

Her prediction came eerily true, as she awoke to the sound of muffled wails coming from the room adjacent to hers. Jane was crying.

'_Already?' _Lizzy thought, and glanced at the clock on her bedside table. It was 11AM. _'Wow, I have slept a lot!'_

Jumping gingerly from her bed, Lizzy got dressed, and without even concerning herself with breakfast went directly to her elder sister's room.

She was somewhat annoying to find her mother there, pacing hurriedly and mumbling about their misfortunes, people's ungratefulness, her own poor nerves, Charlie's untrustworthy character, and how they would all be ruined one day. Lizzy noticed that their mother's presence did nothing to help her sister. Jane was curled up in a ball on her bed, clutching a piece of paper and wailing uncontrollably.

First thing first, Lizzy gently took her mother's elbow, and escorted her out of the room, whispering invitingly. "Come, mother, let us grab something to eat. It will make you feel better."

"Oh Lizzy, my poor nerves!" Was all the reply she received as she led her agitated mother downstairs and into the kitchen.

Once there, Lizzy seated her mother, and made three toasts. Leaving one on the table for Mrs. Bennet, she rushed back upstairs with the other two pieces and two glasses of milk.

Lizzy knocked before coming in. At Jane's faint "Yes?" she entered the room, and deposited the tray on the small table next to Jane's bed.

"Eat, sweetheart. I put your favorite plum jam on it." She attempted to give Jane a weak smile.

"Oh Lizzy!" Liz felt herself being engulfed in a desperate hug, and thought sardonically that this must have been how she had embraced Jane the morning before. "You were right, you were right, you were _right_! He just left me, Lizzy!" And she burst into new tears.

Lizzy simply caressed her soothingly, and waited for her sister to calm before asking, "What did he say, Jane? In the note?" She motioned to the piece of paper in Jane's right hand.

"Oh, that is not from him, Lizzy… that's from Caroline…"

"Wh-what? Didn't Charles send anything himself?"

Jane ruefully shook her head. "I only received a message that said that he had business to attend to and that he would miss me. But this note, this not tells me so much more!"

"May… may I read it?"

Jane nodded and passed her to note.

"_My darling Jane,_

_It has been such a pleasure getting to know you during our quaint little stay in Meryton! It was nice to spend some time in a place so small and cozy, without a worry about business or appearances. But alas, grander things await. Charlie and I will be departing for London tomorrow. I cannot wait to be back in society! And I think he is equally impatient – but perhaps for something else. I suspect he is quite looking forward to once again having the pleasure of the company of Miss Claire Swayn, the heiress to the Swayn publishing empire._

_Well, do keep in touch!_

_Hugs and Kisses,_

_Caroline Bingley"_

Lizzy could not help the disdainful snort that escaped her mouth when she finished the letter. Who exactly would Jane keep in touch with someone who blatantly neglected to leave any contact information? Moreover, whoever this Claire Swayn was, Lizzy was sure that Charlie's impatience to see her was nowhere nearly as grand as his sister was making it out to be. She could not have failed to note Caroline Bingley's hostility towards the Bennets over the past weeks, even if Jane stubbornly refused to notice it. Apparently, Caroline was either eager to see the match between her brother and Miss Swayn, or attempting to convince Jane that Charlie felt nothing towards her. Was Caroline in on William's plan to separate the two lovers?

"I tried calling Charlie, Lizzy. But couldn't reach him; he was probably already on the plane. And once in England, he would no longer be using his American phone. Oh Lizzy, what am I to do now?" And Jane resumed her wails. "I-I-I l-loved h-him-m!" She exclaimed between sobs.

Lizzy hugged her sister's head tightly to her chest, and for the first time felt herself angry with Charles. Now that she was no longer fully overtaken by her indignation with Fitzwilliam (after all, some of it must have been released during the interminable tears over the past twenty four hours!), she at last saw that the sweet, cheerful Charlie had actually been equally at fault. How could he just leave a girl he loved only because his presumptuous friend told him to do so? How could he not even talk to her – not even give her a chance? How could he be so cruel and thoughtless towards an angel like Jane?

"Oh Jane," Lizzy whispered softly, and lovingly caressed the top of her sister's hair, while a tear from her own eyes fell dejectedly onto its brilliant waves.


	18. Chapter 18

The next days found the Bennet household gloomy and unusually quiet. Jane spent most of her time locked up in her room, lonely and dejected. Lizzy did her best to comfort her sister; she brought her food and unexpected treats, offered back rubs, forced Jane to take occasional walks outside for fresh air, and literally spent every waking minute of her days trying to make her beloved sister forget her pain. In truth, this excessive fussing over Jane was forcing Lizzy to overlook and nearly forget, at times, her _own _disappointment and pain. She could not quite comprehend why Charles's departure – this final breach of any possibility of reconciliation with Fitzwilliam – affected her so much. She had hated Fitzwilliam before, and it never hurt her. Why should it bother her now?

Mary, the middle sister, was too confused and awkward by her older siblings' interactions, and did not know what to do. She wanted, at times, to help comfort Jane, but not knowing how, she usually resorted to spending the entire day at the conservatory, sometimes playing but usually not. Her fingers would drape idly over the keys, and she would lose herself in thought. For some reason, her life appeared so bland and boring to her all of a sudden. It was clear that Jane was miserable, but there were moments when Mary was almost jealous of her. She had never known love or heartbreak, and now almost yearned to learn what each meant.

The youngest Bennet sisters had become unusually sensible. They were not bad girls at heart, not at all. Perhaps a bit silly and excessively flirtatious, but never insensitive or malicious. For the first two days, they tried their very best to bring a cheerful smile back to Jane's eyes. They used all the means at their disposal: boy talk, ice cream, and movies. When it seemed to only make Jane more melancholic, Kitty and Lydia gladly let Lizzy take over the bedside, and remained courteously discreet. Lizzy was impressed by their sudden sensibility, and smiled gratefully when they would meet up in the kitchen.

Even Mrs. Bennet had somehow been made to cease her shrieks and loud complaints. She grew uncharacteristically solemn while at home, and spent most of her days out of it. She would usually meet up with one of the neighbors – usually Mrs. Lucas or Mrs. Philips – and onto them, she would at last unleash all the exasperated tension of her poor nerves. To them, she would complain about her poor Jane's unhappiness, and Charles Bingley's ungratefulness, and her stupid Lizzy's stubbornness in refusing Fitzwilliam Darcy, who seemed to be becoming more rich and famous with every coming day.

Mr. Bennet regarded the new family dynamic with a mix of sarcasm and wistfulness. A break from his wife's and younger daughters' silliness was a welcome novelty, but the pain of his two eldest daughters was unsettling him. Of course, he was smart and observant enough to have noticed that Jane was not the only one in pain: there was something wrong with Lizzy as well, though he could not quite place it. But regardless, he could only observe, but not act. He had absolutely no idea of how he could possibly relieve either of his daughters, and remained on the periphery, watching the events unfold.

And so he was extremely grateful when his cousin and colleague, Mr. Gardiner, offered to take Jane on a trip to California with himself and his wife. The Gardiners had always been close to Mr. Bennet and his two eldest daughters, and had taken one of both or the girls on their trips several times before. They assured Thomas Bennet profusely that having Jane accompany them would be no trouble at all, and he readily believed them: Jane was truly an angel, and there were few people who would not desire her quiet, unassuming, and usually cheerful company.

And so it was that four days after Charles Bingley left town, Jane Bennet followed suit, only where he had traveled East, she was going West. She was glad to leave Meryton, knowing that the excitement of San Diego had a much higher chance of lifting her spirits than the monotony of her hometown. She was not, however, glad to leave Lizzy, and wished wistfully that the Gardiners could have invited her too. But, alas, that was not the case.

Once Jane left, Lizzy spent the entire afternoon in lonely sulkiness, before deciding to phone Greg. She had not called him since the morning she had overheard Mr. Darcy's conversation with Mr. Bingley, and Greg's messages had gotten increasingly frantic. But she had been preoccupied with Jane, and for some reason simply had not been able to bring herself to see him.

Now, however, she was acutely feeling the emptiness left by Jane's departure, and again craved Greg's company. As she waited for the phone to ring, Lizzy suddenly felt nervous. What would he think of her calling now, after days of complete neglect?

"Hello… Lizzy?" His voice was tentative, unsure.

"Hi Greg." She suddenly did not know what to say.

There was a momentary silence, before he apparently regained his speaking abilities.

"God, Elizabeth, where have you been? Is everything ok? What's going on? Why haven't you answered my calls?"

Lizzy suddenly felt nauseous and realized that she could not have this conversation over the phone. "Greg, can I see you?" She added quietly, "Please?"

"Of course! But what's the matter, sweetheart?" He sounded genuinely worried.

"I'll explain when we meet. How about a walk in the park, dear?"

"Sure, should I pick you up?"

"No, just meet me there, at the entrance, in about half an hour, ok?"

"Sure thing, love. I hope you're ok."

"See you." She sighed and hung up.

Arriving in the park, Liz immediately spotted him. There he was, leaning against the entrance gate, illuminated by the streetlight, handsome and casual in jeans and a tight-fitting black t-shirt, his bronze hair in disarray, and his lovely blue eyes scanning for her. Once he noticed her, his face first spread into a beautiful grin, which then melted into an apprehensive smile. Suddenly, Lizzy felt a surge of affection towards this sweet, pleasant man, and ran up to him, embracing him into a tight, loving hug.

"Oh Greg!" She purred, delighting in his scent. She had not even noticed how much she had missed him.

"Lizzy, Lizzy," he mumbled into her hair, overtaken by pleasure and surprise – for he had already given up on the hope of ever holding her again. "What on earth happened, Lizzy?" He asked, taking her face into his hands, and pushing it slightly away, so that he could look into her beautiful hazel eyes. "I thought you had dumped me. You canceled a dinner date, and then did not respond of any of my calls or messages. I had even begun to get worried, but then I saw you the other day walking with Jane, and at least I knew you were safe."

"You saw me? Then why didn't you come and talk to me?"

"Silly girl. If you were fine and still ignoring me, it could only mean one thing: you no longer wanted me. I had given up all hope of being with you." And he pressed tightly against her body, softly nuzzling her hair.

With some annoyance, Lizzy suddenly thought that another man would not have given up so easily. She thought about a man she _knew _would not give up so easily, who seemed to never quite give up, no matter how much she might want him to.

These recollections were interrupted by Greg's stern voice. "But really, what is going on?"

Lizzy sighed, and attempted to explain. "It's Jane. Charles… well, you see… he just left her. She's been a wreck, and frankly so have I. I've spent all my time with her, the two of us wallowing in misery together, until she left this morning. And that's when I realized how much I missed you." She pressed a tentative kiss onto his cheek. "I'm so very sorry, my sweetheart."

Greg gave her a beautiful smile. "It's alright, darling, I forgive you. Just don't neglect me like that again, please." And he gently caressed the tip of her nose with his right index finger. He knew how much Lizzy loved her sister, and understood how she would get so terribly upset by Jane's misfortune. Of course, it pained him to come second in her life, but that was just the way Lizzy was, he thought. "Darling," his voice was serious again, "it's a good thing you came to me today. I'm leaving tomorrow."

"You're… what?"

"I'm leaving for San Francisco. George is moving out there, and I'll be helping him move in. He's subletting a little room in a house in Richmond. He got a job at a bookstore there, and will finish up high school." Seeing the confusion written on Lizzy's face, he lowered his voice and spoke earnestly, almost in a shallow growl. "I would have never just left like that without telling you, Liz, but you must understand that you wouldn't fucking pick up my phone! I thought we were through, and I figured it'd be a good thing to move away for two weeks. Now of course I wish I didn't have to go. I've just gotten you back, and you have no idea what a relieve it is. I wish I could spend every moment of every day with you now!" And then he suddenly embraced her in a very tight hold and placed a passionate kiss on her lips.

Lizzy felt rather guilty for having neglected him so much. It was clear that he had missed her, and that he was now doubly upset at leaving so soon after having reconnected with her. She wanted to comfort him, and said softly and seductively, "It's ok, Greg, we still have a night ahead of us."

"Your place or mine?" He asked huskily.

Instead of a reply, Lizzy simply took his hand and began walking back towards her house. The evening was pleasant and chilly, and she felt suddenly happy on this beautiful day with this sweet, beautiful man.

Once inside her bedroom, the pair spent what felt like an eternity exploring each other's mouth, shoulders, neck. Greg had always felt unusually attracted to this intriguing woman, but never had his passion been this acute. Perhaps the ardor with which he currently desired her was due to the fact that for once, she seemed to be as much into their caresses as he was.

In the past, Lizzy had been reluctant to fully engage herself with Greg. They had had steamy make-out sessions, of course, and some more sexual explorations, but she never went as far as having sex with him. It was peculiar even to Lizzy, for she had never been a shy girl when it came to sex. She was a physical person, and had always relished in the physical side of her relationships. She would never have sex with a man who did not love her, of course, or towards whom she did not feel affectionate. But she was not overly conservative either; it never took her very long to become intimate with the men she dated. Yet somehow, every time Greg attempted to go further with her, she saw a pair of deep, disturbingly passionate brown eyes, and for some inexplicable reason could not bring herself to break Fitzwilliam Darcy's heart further by sleeping with another man.

Now it was different. Now there was no more Fitzwilliam in the back of her mind, or at least so she liked to think. Now she gave herself willingly to Greg, and forced herself to enjoy it.

The next day, he was gone. Liz felt suddenly lonely and empty. First Jane had left, and now Greg. What was she to do for the next two weeks? Well, at least her best friend was still in Meryton. And Lizzy eagerly called Charlotte.

Charlotte Lucas arrived at the Bennet household early in the afternoon, and the girls spent hours happily chatting together. Lizzy complained to her best friend about the departures of her favorite sister and her boyfriend, and the usually non-spontaneous Charlotte surprised them both by exclaiming:

"Well, if everyone is heading out of town, why should we be outdone? Lets have a vacation, Lizzy!"

"My God, Charlotte, what a brilliant plan! I can't believe that it had not even crossed my mind. Meryton must have driven me completely insane with its monotony! But are you sure? Will you be okay leaving work?"

Charlotte smiled. "It'll be quite alright, dear. I haven't taken any days off lately, so I'm sure I can afford a little vacation."

"How long where you thinking?"

"I don't know. Ten day?"

"Sure. Lets go somewhere exotic! What do you think?"

"Sounds lovely. Any special places in mind?"

Lizzy thought for a moment. Then her face broke into a beautiful grin. "Cancun! I've always wanted to go there."

"Sounds like a plan! Want to find a hotel?" And Charlotte gingerly sat at the desk in front of Lizzy's computer. Liz was incredibly happy to see her usually calm and serious friend so full of excitement.

"Hey, I know this website that lists amazing deals in very upscale hotels. You know, rooms that they haven't been able to rent out…" And Lizzy joined her friend at the computer.

After half an hour of searching through the numerous accommodations, Charlotte exclaimed: "Oh my, look at this one! Rosings Park Hotel, _five _stars! And there's a room for two for only a hundred dollars a night! I can't believe that!"

"I told you this website was great! Thought that sounds _too _good to be true. Are you sure there isn't anything wrong with this place?"

Charlotte had already clicked on a link to see the hotel's reviews, and they all appeared to be absolutely stellar. "Nah, doesn't look like it. Lets get this!"

Lizzy shrugged. She was still a bit suspicious of the unbelievably good deal, but she reveled in Charlotte's exuberance, and wasn't about to say no to her. The girls merrily booked the room. In four days, they would be sprawled on a beach in Cancun, and that was all that mattered.


	19. Chapter 19

It had been three weeks since he had last spoken to Lizzy. During those miserable twenty-one days, he did everything he could to prevent his treacherous thoughts from drifting to her lovely face every second. He had done all he could, and it was up to her now to come to him if she wished. She clearly did _not _wish to do so, however. And it would do him absolutely no good to be emptily pining after her.

So instead he threw himself into work with unprecedented ardor. He had been vigilant when he first took over Pemberley Corp out of sheer boredom in the dreary little Meryton, but he had subsequently lapsed for the duration of the week between his first meeting with Elizabeth during her lunch with Georgiana and his last lovely dinner with her. He was distracted then. Bitter spouts of jealousy and sweet fantasies occupied his mind. He was hopeful; he was in love; he was alive. But now he plunged back into work with unmatched ferocity. Now there was still love but no more hope, and he needed desperately to distract himself.

Understandably, his business had flourished in those three weeks. The first sign of his extraordinary success was the acquisition of Matlock a little over a week after the final rift with Lizzy. The deal was absolutely fantastic, and his company's standing improved instantly, necessitating a fly-out to New York City to meet with several high profile businessmen, and the notorious CNN interview, the first attack of relentless publicity.

A flurry of meetings, interviews, and offers followed. Pemberley was suddenly the talk of the entire nation's business world, and its mere name now seemed to be as impressive in New York City as it had always been in Meryton, Alabama. Soon, Mr. Darcy had to deal with more solicitors, partners, and sponsors than he had ever imagined it was possible to endure. His father would have been proud of him.

At last, as the third week of his separation from Lizzy – of this public success coupled with private loneliness – drew to a close, he agreed to an initial public offering. Pemberley Corporation stocks would soon be publicly traded, and if everything went according to plan, Fitzwilliam Darcy would soon be a multi-billionaire.

Of course, Fitzwilliam's astounding success could not go unnoticed by Elizabeth Bennet. Indeed, his name and face now attacked her at every corner.

The populace of Meryton was constantly buzzing with his name. How rich would their beloved Mr. Darcy be now? What would the IPO mean for the company? What would it do to Pemberley's employees? Would he ever consider moving the headquarters?

His face haunted her from the television screen almost daily. Interviews with every major network, daily talk shows, everything. Fitzwilliam Darcy was suddenly a national celebrity! It was only natural, after all. He had managed to avoid the fame until then because his company was tucked away in a tiny rural town. But now he was out in the open. Lizzy shuddered to think that with this new development, even when she returns to Columbia, she would not be able to escape him.

And to top if off, sultry talk about him constantly taunted her from the popular tabloids so frequently perused by her mother and younger sisters. Suddenly, _People _and _Seventeen _were interested in Fitzwilliam Darcy and every minute detail of his private life. The fact that the newly discovered near-billionaire had amazing good looks and no marriage certificate had certainly contributed to this interest. And now it seemed that the country's main gossip consisted of Fitzwilliam's previous womanizing ways, his present reclusive bachelorhood, and speculation as to whether or not he might be interested in this or that high society woman he had briefly encountered at a business soiree.

Fitzwilliam sighed, looking at yet another such article. Pemberley's IPO was about to take place in two days, and apparently he managed to make _People_'s front page with the brazen title "Is America's Hottest Heartthrob about to Become One of its Wealthiest Men?" God, how he hated such things! Annoyed and slightly embarrassed, he flicked through to the article. Annoyed because he was a reserved man by nature, and resented having his life thus paraded in front of the entire nation. Embarrassed, because he could only imagine what Lizzy might think of him when she reads such a title. Though a tiny little bit of him was also a little proud; he wanted desperately to impress her with his success.

When he reached the article, he groaned inwardly. Not only did it feature a full page sized picture of him, but skimming through it alerted him to the fact that he had apparently been voted as the sexiest man alive by some small-scale survey, and now stood a high chance of being elected the notorious "Most Eligible Bachelor" nationwide.

Great, just great. What use was all this fame and fawning if the one woman whom he so ardently desired had not bothered to contact him _once _in the past three weeks? Every day he sent her a thoughtful, expensive present. Every night, he dreamed of her. Every moment, he waited patiently for her to call for him. Yet it never happened. She wanted nothing to do with him.

Growing increasingly frustrated and wishing to take his mind off of the unpleasant thoughts, he turned to the accounts on Rosings Park, the hotel he had bought a few months before in Cancun. It was his main investment, the fist of many hotels he planned to invest in now that his IPO would likely make him tens if not hundreds of times wealthier than he had been.

He hadn't paid much attention to Rosings, but it brought him a nice, steady profit. His intuition had proved correct, and the hotel had indeed been a great investment. His aunt, Catherine de Bourgh, whose late husband had managed a hotel empire, did a nicely competent job of looking after the hotel. Moreover, she liked Cancun so much, that she decided to relocate there – it was one of her many fancies, to be moving about the continent; Fitzwilliam doubted she would last in Cancun for longer than a year. That suited Fitzwilliam well, though, as for the time being she was probably even better able to look after his hotel from so close a distance.

He now looked through Rosings Park's accounts for the first time in months. Attempting to occupy his distracted mind, he mindlessly browsed through lists of employees, of patrons. Suddenly, the name he could never miss even in the middle of a list of hundreds flashed before him. _Elizabeth Bennet_.

Hungrily, he took in the information. She had booked into his hotel! And she was going to stay there in four days! The room was booked for two, and Darcy cringed inwardly at the thought that she was about to vacation with Greg. Glancing further, however, he was relieved to find that her companion was Charlotte Lucas.

This was his chance. Elizabeth Bennet was staying at his hotel for ten days, and he would damn well make sure that she had the best vacation of her life! And moreover, he could no longer keep himself from her. He would follow her to Cancun. That was going expressly against her wishes of no contact, but he reasoned that the fact of her stay in Rosings Park justified his decision. She was staying in _his _hotel, so effectively _she _was coming to _him_.

Fitzwilliam smiled.

Immediately invigorated, he proceeded to ensure that Elizabeth would receive her dream vacation. For some reason Elizabeth's room was not displayed on the internal hotel map online, so he called the hotel.

"Good evening," He heard the pleasant voice of the receptionist.

"Good evening. This is Fitzwilliam Darcy."

There was silence. The girl seemed stunned. "M-Mr. Darcy?"

"I would like to enquire about room –" He glanced at the computer screen to note the number of Lizzy's room. "– 417. How large is it?"

There was ruffling of papers, followed by: "It is seventy-five square feet, sir."

"What?" Fitzwilliam had to pause for a moment to regain the sedateness in his voice. "But I remember specifically ensuring when I acquired the hotel that all rooms were at least a hundred and fifty square feet."

"Well, um… you see, sir, we have made some alterations. There has been very good business, and a few of the storage rooms have been converted to guest rooms."

Fitzwilliam involuntarily shuddered. His Elizabeth in a former storage room? Never!

"Under whose orders was that executed?" He asked sternly.

"Um…er… Mr. Webber, sir." The girl sounded frightened.

"He will be fired tomorrow," Fitzwilliam muttered under his breath, before calming himself and attempting to speak politely. "Please, Miss, would you relocate Miss Bennet and Miss Lucas to the most luxurious penthouse suite for two. The rose room would do well, I believe." The more expensive suites on the top floor were not numbered, instead referred to by flower names, giving them a feel of regency guestrooms rather than hotel rooms.

"Of course, sir." The girl replied immediately. After a few seconds of keyboard noises, she answered uncertainly. "That room has already been booked, sir. Mr. Turner, a British ambassador, is scheduled to stay there with his wife."

Darcy debated for a second whether to insist on a room change. The sensible thing to do would be to request another room for the two young women from Meryton. But he was not in a sensible mood. Elizabeth would be getting the best suite, and he would not be countered.

"Relocate Mr. Turner to the lily room, and offer him complementary breakfast with my personal apologies. The two young ladies are _very _important guests," he stressed.

"Ok, sir," The confused and terrified girl replied meekly.

"In addition, during the ladies' stay, please make sure that absolutely nothing is denied them. Whatever they ask for, they are to receive immediately. Please write that order down and pass it on to the other personnel."

"Y-yes, sir."

"Thank you. Good day, Miss." And with that, he hung up the phone and let out a heavy sigh.

Next, he faced the unpleasant task of issuing a termination of employment notice to the offending Mr. Webber.

Once that was done, Mr. Darcy instructed his personal jet to deliver him to Cancun in three days, a day before Lizzy would arrive. Fortunately, the IPO should be finished by then, and he would be able to take a break. Of course, he was not so naïve as to think that it would be easy to simply disappear for ten days, but he honestly didn't care. Fitzwilliam's possessive side was suddenly awakened after weeks of numbness. He was going to get Elizabeth, no matter at what cost. He would be there to welcome her when she arrived, and he would remain there with her on her perfect holiday until she came around to him. Enough was enough. Fitzwilliam Darcy was quite determined.

Soon, tomorrow, today even perhaps, he would return to earth and he would recall that all these dreams were simple illusions, and all his confidence was naïve. But right now, he would pretend that his impulsive trip to Cancun would result in unlikely happiness. He would imagine that this time, everything would go according to plan. And reclining in his posh leather chair, Fitzwilliam closed his eyes welcoming his delectable fantasies. Thoughts of Elizabeth on a Cancun beach immediately invaded his mind. And then more: Elizabeth in the water; Elizabeth in the hotel lobby; Elizabeth on the comfortable bed in the luxurious suite. Elizabeth at a charming restaurant at dinnertime. Elizabeth on a walk along the beach at night, her fair skin illuminated by moonlight. Elizabeth in his arms. Elizabeth under his hungry lips. _His _Elizabeth.


	20. Chapter 20

Liz was a smart, cheerful girl, and her manner of booking flights certainly reflected her personality. Instead of reserving two seats next to each other, she convinced Charlotte to follow her usual practice: grab a window and an aisle seat in the same row, with only one empty seat in-between. She did this whenever she traveled with a companion on a sufficiently empty flight. It was, after all, a win-win situation. If no one books the seat between, the two of them would get the entire row of three seats to themselves. And if someone did have to take the middle seat, that unfortunately person would be more than happy to trade with one of his or her neighbors for a window or aisle seat, and the two companions would end up with seats next to each other – exactly what Charlotte would have booked for them anyway. Lizzy liked this little ruse, and took advantage of it whenever she had the chance. It always worked out for the best.

Always, except on their flight to Cancun.

The middle seat between the two girls was taken by a short, fairly plump, greasy-haired young man, who absolutely _refused _to trade seats with either of them, and actually _preferred _to sit on an uncomfortable middle seat awkwardly positioned between two best friends. Apparently, the man was too ecstatic about the opportunity to socialize with pretty girls, and would not pass the chance. Tricky little thing, he obviously realized that if the two of them sat next to each other, they would talk exclusively between themselves. Whereas if he kept his seat in the middle, they would be forced to engage in a conversation with him.

Noticing that Lizzy was the prettier of the two, this young man turned his attention to her.

"I'm Colin Smith, assistant manager of Rosings Park hotel," he said, extending his hand and raising his head in such a proud gesture that he may as well just pass her his business card.

"Um… I'm Elizabeth Bennet. Pleasure to meet you?" Liz was so taken aback, that her last sentence inadvertently came out uncertainly, as if it was a question rather than a statement. Her obvious discomfort, however, seemed to have gone completely unnoticed by Colin.

"May I enquire as to the purpose of your visit to Cancun, Elizabeth?" He put on an exaggerated air of officiousness as he spoke, and Lizzy inwardly cringed. "Is your trip for business or pleasure?"

"Pleasure, I suppose. My friend and I are taking a short vacation." At the word "friend", she motioned her head softly towards Charlotte, whereby Colin turned to the other girl and acknowledged her with a brief nod before turning back to Elizabeth. _'What a rude young man!'_ Lizzy thought.

"Well, my dear, I dare say I know Cancun very well. I work for one of best hotel there, you know. As I said before, I am the _assistant manager _of Rosings Park. My employer, Catherine de Bourgh, is quite a noble lady, you know. She is the hotel's manager, and she has quite a lot of experience in the business. Her late husband, Louis de Bourgh –"

Thankfully, a flight attendant passed them at that point, and, eager to interrupt Colin's senseless ramblings about his "noble employer", Lizzy asked for a glass of water.

Just as Colin was about to resume speaking, Lizzy took out Kafka's _Metamorphosis _from her bag, and schooled her facial features into an apologetic smile.

"Look, Colin, it's been great chatting with you, but I really need to read this book."

She opened the book, and heard Colin ask: "Oh, is it for a class? Are you a college student?"

"Yes," she answered curtly.

"Where do you go to school, my dear?"

"Columbia." Lizzy was really hoping that her short, disinterested answers would finally induce him to leave her at peace.

Instead, Colin began a new elocution: "Oh, Columbia is quite a nice University. My employer's second cousin, I believe, is a trustee there…"

"Colin, _please_, I need to read."

"Of course, of course, I understand. You must be quite studious, so intent on doing your homework, even when on vacation. I highly admire the qualities of diligence and devotion. They are especially important in a woman…"

"Yes," Lizzy cut him off briskly, and there was an evident edge to her voice, which could go unnoticed only by someone as self-absorbed and inattentive as Colin.

Taking a peak at the title of her book, he asked: "Are you preparing for a course in German literature?"

"Um, yes," Lizzy lied quickly. "And I really need to read this now if I want to pass the course." With that, she turned back to her book quite determinedly, and was gratified to know that Colin finally ceased his attempts at conversation with her, and began flipping through some newspapers in his lap.

"Oh my!" He exclaimed after several minutes of blissful silence, taking out a copy of the Wall Street Journal. "I knew it!"

Resigned, Lizzy lifted her head, and regarded him quizzically, waiting for the annoying man to elaborate.

"Pemberley's IPO has done amazingly well! I mean, I always knew that it would be amazing, but this… It's like, over four billion dollars. Mr. Darcy must be very happy now. But, of course, he quite deserves it. What an amazing man! So distinguished, and smart, and noble! You know, my employer, Mrs. Catherine de Bourgh…"

As soon as the name of Mrs. de Bourgh passed his lips, Elizabeth immediately stopped listening to Colin and turned instead to take a look at the article he was reading. It was on the front page of the publication, with a large photograph of the notorious Mr. Darcy, and the title "Pemberley's IPO Raises $4.6 Billion".

"That's more than Google's!" Lizzy could not help the awe-inspired words from escaping her mouth.

"Oh yes, my dear. Quite impressive, I would say. And what a wonderful, illustrious man. It would be an honor to know him!" Colin gushed out, and Lizzy blushed when she heard Charlotte give out a snort at his last words. She prayed that her friend would not find it necessary to share with this annoying man the particulars of her own acquaintance with Fitzwilliam Darcy. "And that is just the IPO; think about how much potential there is in the future!" Colin continued.

Lizzy blocked his voice out of her mind, and focused instead on the photograph on the front page. He was perfect: that was the best way to describe the look of the man in the picture. Solemn and gorgeous, with a light smile touching the corners of his mouth but not quite reaching his expressive eyes. And all this could… No, Lizzy did not finish that thought. There were no possible what-ifs between her and Mr. Darcy, she reminded herself almost wistfully. Not after what he had done to Jane; not after the way he had treated Wickham.

The air journey between Meryton and Cancun could at best be termed suboptimal. There was no airport in Meryton, of course, and there were no direct flights from Netherfield to Cancun, either. So the three passengers had to make a stop.

Exiting the plane and walking to the waiting area awaiting their next flight, Liz was once again accosted by Colin.

"My dear Elizabeth, I would like to offer you a lunch date," he said smugly, as if he was actually doing her an indescribable favor.

"Thank you, Colin, but there is really no need," she declined as politely as she could. "I am on this trip with my dear friend Charlotte, and I would rather spend the time with her."

Colin looked confused for a moment, and then turned plainly incredulous. "Perhaps you do not understand, Elizabeth, but I just offered to take you on a date. You must know that I am a very serious young man, and a lunch date could potentially lead to a dinner date, and then beyond. I only have the most honorable of intentions in my mind, and –"

Here she cut him off, getting impatient with the dense man. "You are mistaken, Colin. I understood you perfectly. And I answered that there is no need to take me out."

Incredulity mixed with offense, and he spat out: "Do you mean that you are turning me down?"

"Yes, that is exactly what I mean. Of course, please do not take it personally, I –"

He did not let her finish. "Do you even realize what you are doing? Don't you know who I am? I am the _assitant manager of Rosings Park_, second in command reporting directly to _Mrs. Catherine de Bourgh_, the most distinguished and noble lady you could ever imagine! You must understand, surely you must, Elizabeth, that you may never receive attentions from such a distinguished man as myself again! Surely, you cannot be serious! Perhaps you are just being coy, and playing hard to get."

"No. I am doing nothing of the sort. You have said quite enough, sir, and I now bid you good day." With this, she turned around, and grabbed Charlotte's hand, silently beseeching her to follow and walk away from the disgusting man as soon as could be. What followed utterly amazed her.

Taking a few deep breaths, Colin recovered from his anger fit, and for the first time his eyes fell on Lizzy's companion. This other girl was much plainer, sure, but not so bad after all. And immediately, the perfect revenge plan appeared in Colin's mind.

"Very well. But surely, you would allow me to escort you two lovely ladies?" And he bowed to Charlotte and took her hand.

The girl did not object. Lizzy's mouth dropped in shock at her friend's betrayal and apparent stupidity in accepting the arm of such a slimy, repulsive man.

What shocked her even more was that after a few minutes of pleasantries, Colin asked _Charlotte _to lunch, and she _accepted_. Lizzy did not understand. She wanted to grab her friend by the shoulders and shake her violently, asking her what on earth she was doing accepting a date with this sickening man, especially after what had passed between him and Lizzy. But they were in a crowded airport, and Liz did not wish to make a scene. Gloomy and sulking, she walked away from her two companions, determined to have a talk with Charlotte later that night.

Fortunately, Colin was unable to acquire a seat near the two girls on the next flight, and Lizzy was able to finally speak to her friend.

"What the hell?" She demanded immediately.

"Look, Lizzy, I'm sorry," Charlotte began sheepishly. "But you must understand. This is the first time someone's asked me out on a date in _ages_. And I _know_, of course I do, that he doesn't even like me, that he wanted you and only went for me because you refused him. But that's just the thing. _Everyone _wants you, and absolutely no one ever even looks at me. You know how boring it is to be single in Meryton? I would love to finally find someone to settle down with. And besides, he has good prospects. He has a good job, he's independently well off, and he seems to have good connections to that de Bourgh woman. I know you will not approve, but I am twenty-four, and I have hardly received any real attention from men. I know I am not gorgeous like you or Jane, but I also don't ask for much. Just comfort and security, Lizzy, that is all. And who knows, I just might find it with Colin…"

"Are you serious Charlotte? Is that really all you want for yourself? Don't you realize that you deserve so, _so _much more? That man is not worth even a minute of your time! Don't degrade yourself this way just because he has a decent job!"

Charlotte surprised her by laughing bitterly in return. "A decent job? Really, is that what you call it? He's second in command of a glamorous five-star hotel, and you just brush it off as a decent job! I know _you _have Fitzwilliam Darcy pining after you, but the rest of us mortals are not that lucky! I don't have a newly made billionaire send me daily presents, his handsome face staring at me from every front-page article with those sad, sad eyes begging me to take him in! Ha! I live in the _real _world, Lizzy!"

Liz did not reply. She looked away at the window and watched the take off. She was suddenly sad. She understood why Charlotte had done what she had done: she wanted to feel wanted and welcome. She wanted to no longer be alone. And apparently, there was something more, something Lizzy had failed to noticed but should have realized: Charlotte was jealous of her. Liz mentally chastised herself for inspiring this surge of envy in her dearest friend, and for not being attentive enough to notice it.

The rest of the flight passed in silence.

When the girls arrived at the hotel, they were confused when instead of room 417, they were escorted to a glamorous penthouse suite for two. The suite consisted of an enormous sitting room, a spacious bedroom with two queen-sized beds, and a large ensuite-bathroom with a beautiful Jacuzzi tub. The ocean views were absolutely breathtaking.

Lizzy looked around the room skeptically. They had paid a hundred dollars a night, and this was worth tenfold more. Something was clearly wrong.

"Excuse me," she addressed the extremely polite receptionist who had insisted on escoring them to their suite, complete with an entire entourage of hotel staff taking care of their rather insignificant bags. "We booked room 417. There must have been a mistake."

"No, there has been no mistake, I assure you." The receptionist smiled widely. "The room you requested is no longer available. There had been a mistake, and that room should not have been posted online at all. It is far too small to be rented out. We bring our apologies for the inconvenience, and offer you this room instead."

"Hm," Lizzy said thoughtfully. Something didn't add up. Guests like them didn't just get penthouse suites as a form of apology. It would be more reasonable for the hotel staff to relocate them to the next smallest room. Lizzy didn't like things she did not understand, so she said determinedly: "This is a considerably more luxurious accommodation than the one we booked. Could you please take us to a simpler room?"

"What?" She heard Charlotte shriek. "Lizzy, are you out of your mind? They offer us _this_, and you ask for something _simpler_?" She turned to the receptionist. "Please forgive her silliness. We will stay here. Thank you."

The young woman looked at Lizzy for confirmation, who just sighed, and responded, "Ok." The hotel staff then left the room.

"God Lizzy, this is magnificent!" Charlotte exclaimed and fell onto a sumptuous couch in the sitting room. Her bright mood finally brought a smile to Lizzy's lips.

The two girls began unpacking, until Charlotte gave Lizzy an apologetic smile, and explained that Colin had asked her to dine with him.

"I don't have to go, of course. We could do something together…" She was obviously feeling bad for deserting Lizzy with Colin earlier, and for her jealous outburst on the airplane.

"It's ok, Char. You go ahead." Lizzy smiled and waved her friend off. She now understood how bad Charlotte must have felt, and wanted to do everything possible to make her friend happy.

Liz went out and explored the city for two hours, stopping in an unpretentious little café for dinner. Once she got home, she took out a book, and waited for Charlotte. Apparently, her dear friend had been offered a few too many drinks by the sickening Colin, because when Charlotte returned home, she was absolutely drunk. Lizzy sighed, and put her friend to bed, immediately following suit. Sure, she wanted to give Charlotte a chance to go out with a man if she hadn't been on a date in months. But Lizzy surely hoped that Charlotte's vanity would soon be satiated, and she would come back to her senses to see how unsuitable Colin really was.

Downstairs, a young receptionist was quite flabbergasted when Mr. Darcy came from his own penthouse suite (which he kept exclusively for his visits). He had only arrived an hour prior, since unexpected business made him change his plans slightly and take his private jet to Cancun a day later than he had at first anticipated. Now, freshly showered and refreshed, he descended to the lobby, and made a very peculiar request.

"I would like a full breakfast for three for the rose suite tomorrow morning at nine." The receptionist nodded, and noted down the order, before he utterly shocked her with his next request. "But there is no need to have anyone bring it up. I would like to take it there myself. Understood?"

Unable to move from surprise, she finally managed the briefest of nods. Mr. Darcy then smiled radiantly and with a light bounce in his step went back to the elevator. The receptionist exchanged a quizzical look with her colleagues. _'Who could these visitors be, that Mr. Darcy puts them in the best penthouse suite and then brings them breakfast _himself_?'_


	21. Chapter 21

When Lizzy awakened the next morning, her friend was still sleeping. Liz gave her an apprehensive look, hoping dearly that Charlotte would not have a hangover after last night. Liz thought that her friend had certainly had a few too many drinks, taking advantage of Colin's persistent attentions. Lizzy frowned. She did not approve of that fool, and was unnerved by the fact that Charlotte did not seem to mind him. Instead, her friend almost welcomed the sycophant man's favors. Perhaps Charlotte wanted to feel loved and wanted, but Lizzy was firmly convinced that her dear friend could do so much better than Colin.

She just hoped the fool would not show up today, or tomorrow, or for the rest of their short vacation. Unfortunately, that was rather unlikely. He did work in their hotel. Oh God, why did they have to book into Rosings Park? That reminded Liz of her other unpleasant circumstance: the room she was currently in. Now, a gorgeous penthouse in Cancun's best hotel would not be considered an unfortunately predicament by most. But Lizzy was not most. She was cynical and mistrustful. There was no free cheese outside the mousetrap. And this amazing room was certainly free cheese. She just hadn't figured out what the mousetrap was.

But Charlotte was happy, Liz told herself, and that immediately brightened her mood. If Charlotte wanted to stay in the glamorous accommodation, then so be it. And if Charlotte wanted to tolerate Colin, then fine, so be that too. It was rare that Charlotte got spoiled, so Liz was willing to step aside and not blemish her friend's pleasure. Instead, Elizabeth determined to regain her own good humor, and take pleasure in the holiday too.

With such bright thoughts, she stepped into the magnificent shower, and hummed to herself as she took her time enjoying the warm water.

Once Lizzy got out of the shower, she heard a firm knock on the door. "Room service!" Declared a velvety male voice that for some reason sounded familiar.

"We didn't ask for room service this morning," Lizzy replied with confusion as she donned on a bathrobe and walked to open the door.

"It's complementary." To Liz's amazement it was Fitzwilliam Darcy who replied, holding a laden tray with breakfast for three. Shocked, Liz took a step back, and the gentleman quickly walked into the room.

"W-William?" She asked, too incredulous to be offended by his presence.

He smiled. "Yes, dear. I brought your breakfast." At this he made a theatrical bow, and deposited the tray onto the coffee table.

Lizzy just stared.

Having ridded himself of his load, William stepped closer to her, marveling at her proximity, rejoicing in her presence. It had been so long! So long since he last saw her, last heard her. How he had wished in those lonely weeks to see her again, how he had longed to hold her! But she had told him not to contact her, and he had respected her wishes. Yet he had followed her here to Cancun, and he brought her breakfast. All those weeks of painful restraint were now quickly forgotten, as he could no longer avoid his yearning for her. Fitzwilliam stepped closer to his Elizabeth, and looked intently into her eyes, summoning every ounce of his self-control not to enclose her in his arms and claim those lips that he had never tasted but of which he dreamed now every night.

Regaining her senses, Elizabeth stuttered. "Why… why are you bringing it? Why are… _you_… our room service?"

He smiled softly, and at last could not help the overpowering desire to stroke her left cheek. Tugging a stray curl behind her ear, he murmured. "Quite simply because it was my wish to do so. You have no idea how long I've been dreaming of serving you breakfast in bed, Elizabeth."

Lizzy shuddered at the implications of his words. She had long known that Mr. Darcy wished to bed her, but he had never been quite so forward in hinting at it. Clearly, the weeks of separation had not quelled his desires, but instead had made him too desperate to remain polite.

"Please, don't." Her tone held a clear warning. Then her indignation began to surge, just as he leaned closer to her and was about to place a gentle kiss on her neck. "Mr. Darcy, you know full well that I did not wish to see you. Please leave at once."

But he was not deterred. Hurt, saddened, but not ready to simply walk away. He had not seen her in weeks! And now he was not willing to leave her intoxicating presence. "Elizabeth," he breathed out. Then he stroked her cheek again, so gently yet so sensually, that it sent an involuntary shiver of excitement through her body. "Don't drive me away again, my Lizzy. Let me at least serve you breakfast," he finished with a playful smile.

"Well, breakfast is here now. It will be attended to once Charlotte wakes up. Thank you for your care, sir, you may now go." She gave him a very purposeful look, hoping against hope that he would leave her at peace. His presence perturbed her, and his proximity, his touch were simply distressing. She had not been so close to him since the dance at his fateful soiree, and he had never been so unwaveringly persistent, that she was unaware until that moment of the effect his overwhelmingly masculine presence could have on her treacherous body.

"I brought a set for three, madam. Will you not allow me to join you and your friend?" He was still smiling. No, he would not be deterred.

"Mr. Darcy, please," she pleaded. "Don't make things any more awkward than they already are. Leave, sir, please leave."

"Oh God, you are so terribly resistant." He let out a chuckle. Even Fitzwilliam himself was amazed at his present good humor. She was rejecting him again, begging him to leave her, yet he was smiling and laughing. But after weeks of not being able to speak to her, his present position only a few inches from her lovely face was pure bliss, regardless of whether his attentions were welcome. "Yet every push you give me away from your lovely self only makes me want you more, dearest Lizzy," he added, and ran his hand gently down her arm. He smiled thoughtfully, and continued: "You know, I would make the most attentive husband, my darling. I would bring you breakfast in bed every morning. And homemade dinners whenever you please. I would run you a foam bath when you need to relax, and feed strawberries into your beautiful mouth while you are enjoying the bubbles. Back massages and foot rubs when you are tired or cramped; and of course every millimeter of your body would be worshipped by an exceedingly eager man."

He was holding her now, gazing deep into her eyes, and was about to lower his parted lips onto hers, when she shakily leaned away from him.

Lizzy was beyond perturbed. William was so terribly close, his touch so incredibly scorching. His heartfelt words, the image of perfect bliss with such a perfectly attentive man… His gentle caresses, his tender hold, his intoxicating scent, his gorgeous lips so close to hers… His entire being was so irresistible, that she had to forcefully remind herself of the reasons she had for avoiding the man: he had ruined Jane's happiness; he had destroyed the life of Greg's cousin.

"I should slap you," she said at last. But her body, still weak from the impressions left by him, was unable to move.

"Then perhaps I should occupy your lovely hand in a more pleasant manner before you have a chance to do so." And with a slow, sensual motion, he lifted her right hand to his lips, and placed a gentle kiss on the knuckles.

His kiss was soft, yet it burned like fire through Lizzy's skin. When he then proceeded to slowly place a barely perceptible kiss on the tip of each finger, she had to let out a gasp. Encouraged by her reaction, William became increasingly forward, and now encircled one by one each of her diminutive fingers in his lips, sucking gently on the tips of her trembling fingers, and all the while maintaining his scorching eyes on hers.

Only when he had paid his tribute to the last finger, did Elizabeth regain enough strength to abruptly withdraw her hand. "That's… that's enough," she mumbled, her voice trembling, her face flushed, and her legs barely able to hold her up. God, the man was incredibly sexy! If this was the impression left by his firm, full lips on her fingertips, then what delight could be had if she allowed him to kiss and nibble the rest of her body? '_But no, no! Think of George Wickham, think of Jane!'_

Fitzwilliam was at once disappointed at her resistance, and elated at the unmistakable signs sent by her body, albeit most likely against her will. It was clear that she wanted him too, that she found him attractive, and that she was physically moved by his attentions. This realization only fuelled his growing arousal, which rubbed painfully against his constricting pants ever since he delivered the first kiss to her unresisting hand. God, if this was the state to which he was driven only by kissing the very tips of her fingers, how incredibly delightful would it be, were he permitted to taste the rest of her body!

They gazed at each other for moments that seemed like eternity, each unable and unwilling to break the look, each lost in a flurry of emotions. She, attempting to reconcile her physical reaction to him with her mental dislike. He, trying desperately to control his overwhelming desire to press her roughly against the wall, and at last claim her full, pink lips as his own.

It was Charlotte's half-awake voice that at last broke their trance. "Lizzy, are you up?" She mumbled sleepily, and stepped into the room.


	22. Chapter 22

Charlotte let out a soft gasp at seeing Fitzwilliam Darcy in her and Lizzy's sitting room, standing not more than a foot from her friend, piercing Liz with an intense gaze, and – Charlotte almost snorted at this last observation – with a visible bulge in his trousers.

Noticing her presence, Fitzwilliam and Elizabeth each took a step away from the other, both flushed. Finally composing himself, Fitzwilliam said: "I brought breakfast for you, ladies. If I may join you, I shall be very grateful." Overcoming his flustered state, he gave Charlotte a brilliant smile.

"Um… of course… with pleasure, Mr. Darcy," Charlotte replied with confusion. _'How did he know they would be here?'_

The three of them awkwardly moved towards the coffee table, attempting to take their seats, but instead only shuffling around nervously. Charlotte and Fitzwilliam were each determined to ensure that Elizabeth and Fitzwilliam would sit together. Lizzy, on the other hand, was doing her best to avoid precisely that.

They were not yet seated when the doorbell rang. Glad for the excuse to escape her present awkwardness, Lizzy rushed to the door.

Only when her tantalizing figure was no longer within mere feet of him, did Fitzwilliam regain his rational thinking enough to realize the ridiculous state he was in. A quick glance at Charlotte's bemused expression proved that his condition had not gone unnoticed by her. With added embarrassment reflected in his now scarlet cheeks, Fitzwilliam excused himself to the ensuite restroom.

Elizabeth returned to the sitting room with Colin, who held a rather incongruous bouquet of little tulips and long-stemmed daisies in his right hand.

Walking up to Charlotte and extending the bouquet, he murmured, "For you, my fair lady," in what he must have mistaken for a seductive tone. He then proceeded to melt into a goofy smile, and poke Charlotte with his index finger in what he must have analogously mistaken for a coquettish manner, adding: "I have not forgotten my promise, dear love. I said I would do everything in my power to secure an invitation to the grand home of Mrs. Catherine de Bourgh, and believe it or not – I have done precisely that! Even more than you could ever expect: she invited us _all_," at this he threw a disdainful look at Lizzy, "for dinner tonight!"

At last finished with his grand announcement, Colin proudly lifted his head, doubtlessly assuming that he had just showered the world's grandest favor onto his fancy. And imagining that she must be very impressed.

Charlotte stifled a laugh, while Lizzy let out a derisive chuckle. Yet further sarcasm from either girl was prevented by the reentry of a refreshed, no longer blushing, and much less uncomfortable Fitzwilliam Darcy.

"Who is this?" Colin enquired dubiously, with a tint of suspicion and jealousy in his voice. As if he had any right to be jealous! What a ridiculous man.

Indeed, the little man's ridiculousness prompted Liz to enter into one of her more playful moods, as she replied: "That, Colin, is our room service. He just brought our breakfast."

At this she threw a conspiratorial glance at Darcy, and delighted by her pleasant mood, he was more than happy to play along. "Indeed, sir," he bowed curtly to Colin, mostly to hide the amusement written on his face, "Would you also like to order something to eat?"

Colin furrowed his brows, overcome by his doubts. After all, the man before him was incredibly handsome. It would be difficult for any girl to resist him, even his darling Charlotte. "And why was a room service boy using your restroom, may I ask, madam?" His acid question was directed at Charlotte.

It took a monumental effort of Fitzwilliam's will to prevent himself from bursting out in laughter. Never had Fitzwilliam Darcy been called a "room service boy" before! The situation was truly amusing. Fitzwilliam marveled for a moment at the fact that a mere month before, he would have been unable to find amusement in his present predicament, and would have only been gravely insulted. Now, however, he was able to appreciate the absurd, even if it involved himself. Glancing at Lizzy's delightedly entertained face, he understood exactly what had worked this remarkable change in his sense of humor.

"Oh Colin, surely there was no harm in allowing Mr. Darcy to refresh himself. Believe me, your lovely Charlotte is quite blameless." At this, Liz proceeded to seat herself on the couch and take a chocolate croissant in her pretty right hand. Immediately grabbing onto his chance, Fitzwilliam seated himself next to her, and asked pleasantly, "Tea or coffee, madam?"

As Lizzy replied "Tea" with a smile matching his, he aptly poured her a cup, before turning back to Colin. "Are you sure you do not wish to eat anything, sir? I could call for another set of utensils."

Colin was still too dumbfounded to speak. Once the name "Darcy" had been casually uttered by Elizabeth a minute prior, he suddenly connected the handsome young man before him with the picture in the _People _magazine he had been reading on the airplane only the day before.

"M-M-Mr… D-Darcy?" He squeaked at last. "You m-mean… F-Fitzwilliam Darcy?"

Mr. Darcy simply nodded. "And you, sir?"

Colin immediately straightened out, and put on his most sycophant smile. He gave a very low bow, and pronounced: "Colin Smith at your service, sir. I have been most advantageously employed by your generous aunt, Mrs. Catherine de Bourgh. It is a great honor, sir, to make the acquaintance of her esteemed nephew, sir, and the owner of this most glamorous hotel." At this, Colin suddenly recalled the mistake he had made by taking this illustrious man for a room service boy, and hurried to apologize. "Forgive me, kind sir, for the unpardonable mistake I had just made. I know, there are no excuses for my poor conduct…" At this, he shifted nervously from one foot to the other, and offered another ludicrous bow. By this point, the pair on the couch was barely suppressing their laughter.

Noticing Elizabeth's mirth, Colin filled with indignation, and continued thus: "It was all Eliza's fault, sir. She called you her room service, that shameless little brat! I am so terribly sorry for believing her inane jokes. Please, great sir, accept my humble apology for my part in the preposterous insult to your illustrious person." He was now bending over himself in a most ridiculous supplicating bow.

This was too much. Both William and Elizabeth burst into unrestrained laughter at the man's absurdity, while Charlotte was red with shame at ever having thought the man acceptable.

Doubling over in carefree laughter, Fitzwilliam caught Elizabeth's eyes, and instantly both grew quiet. For several moments, they regarded each other, feeling an unprecedented connection, both still smiling and flushed from their laughing fit, both cheerful and happy. William had an uncharacteristic fuzzy feeling at sharing this moment with her.

At last, Elizabeth looked away uncomfortably. Slowly, Charlotte and Colin joined the pair for breakfast, and all proceeded to eat in silence, preoccupied with individual thoughts. Elizabeth was simply confused by her interactions with William, who in turn was feeling hopeful for the first time in weeks, and was hurriedly thinking up plans to further their tentative relationship. Charlotte was amazed by the chemistry between her friend and Fitzwilliam Darcy: it was clear that the man was in love, and, Charlotte thought, that the girl was also not impartial. Charlotte was very happy for her friend. Colin, on the other hand, was dumbfounded by Mr. Darcy's unmistakable attentions to the impolite little brat.

When breakfast was finally finished, Elizabeth hurriedly excused herself and her friend, and the girls headed to the beach. The gentlemen promised to join them. Excitedly, Fitzwilliam rushed to his private apartment in the hotel to change into his swimming trunks. He could not wait to join Elizabeth on the beach, growing aroused at the mere thought of her in a bikini.

Once he left his rooms and headed to the beach, Fitzwilliam deliberately slowed his pace, allowing himself some time to get composed.

As he was walking up, the two girls lay spread on beach towels, relishing in the Caribbean sun, and talking amicably.

"I hope you no longer intend to try Colin out," Elizabeth teased.

"Oh God, no! I never quite expected he could be _that _ridiculous!" Charlotte laughed, and then teased in return: "But what about Fitzwilliam Darcy? I hope you give _him _a chance!"

"Charlotte, that's non-negotiable." Lizzy was in far too good a mood to go into details raging about Fitzwilliam's faults. She loved sunbathing, she loved Charlotte, she loved the ocean: there was absolutely no need to dwell on an unpleasant topic, even if that unpleasant topic was due to arrive at the beach and disturb their idyll at any moment now.

"Come now, dear, you'd be a fool not to notice just how madly in love with you he appears to be. God, the man _adores _you, Lizzy! And he just happens to be filthy rich and drop-dead gorgeous. No girl in her right mind would ignore him, dear. Jeez, I bet he'd make the world's most perfect husband."

At this, Lizzy could not help but laugh at how close her friend had come to the truth. "Indeed, he seems to think that himself," she said between her bouts of laughter. At Charlotte's quizzically lifted brow, Liz elaborated: "Well, you know, he said he'd bring me breakfast in bed every morning, and make home cooked meals, and what else? Oh yes, mmm, foot and back massages."

It was at this moment that Fitzwilliam Darcy finally reached them. He had overheard the last part of their conversation, and was now elated at what he perceived to be Elizabeth's approval of his promised attentions. She was telling her friend, and smiling – that meant she liked what he promised, perhaps she was even bragging to her friend. Fitzwilliam grinned. If she really approved of what he had to offer, then he could not wait to show her just how perfect a partner he could be. For he certainly meant all he had promised – and more! Breakfast in bed? He had not lied when he said that he had been dreaming of it for weeks. It would be his greatest pleasure to wake her up with a kiss every morning, and to see her smile as he would set a tray with freshly made pancakes over her lap. He would then watch her eat, while cuddling with her under the soft covers, and perhaps even feeding her himself. Back massages and foot rubs? God yes! There was little he would not give to suck on her pretty little toes, which were presently engaged in playing peacefully with the sand, right that very moment, or to massage that smooth back bared by the bikini top, while pressing hot kisses down her tantalizing spine. Running her foam baths? He could think of few things more delightful than gently soaping her tender skin with a soft, velvety sponge, while she would moan in pleasure and splash him with silvery bubbles.

Inspired by these pleasant images, and grinning like a child, Fitzwilliam sat next to her, and took to rubbing her exposed shoulders.

The thought of telling him off momentarily crossed Elizabeth's mind, but she immediately discarded it. She did not know why, but she simply did not _want _to keep trying to chase him away. She told herself that the reason was her unwillingness to spoil what would otherwise be a perfect day at the beach coupled with a wish to placate Charlotte. But deep inside, she could not help but acknowledge that the cool touch of Fitzwilliam's strong yet tender hands felt extraordinarily nice against her overheated skin.

So instead, she merely said, quite playfully: "You are blocking the sun."

He caught her teasing tone, and retorted in kind: "I wish _I _could be your sun, as you are mine."

At this, she sat up, and simply looked at him, taking in his seminude form. She had never seen him topless before, and she had to admit: he was glorious. Casting a sideways look at Charlotte, Lizzy noted that her friend was as breathless from the sight of Fitzwilliam's torso as she was. His perfectly sculpted chest was lightly shielded by just the right amount of hair, trailing down to his amazing abdomen, and under the waistband of his dark blue swimming trunks, where she blushed to see a sign of his arousal, no doubt inspired by her own semi nudity. And then his legs, so long and muscular, and so perfectly built! And the arms – there was no way to describe them, except to say that even Liz felt an overwhelming desire to be carried by those gorgeous strong arms.

What excited her even more was the look in his eyes as she finally ended her appraisal and turned to his face. That look expressed all the love and desire he had harbored for her for weeks, months perhaps (had he not indicated that he had never forgotten her from the party the summer before?). The thought that this perfect male specimen was ready to do her every bidding, to be the perfect partner to her, was exhilarating. A mere word, a mere nod from her, and he would be hers, with all his manly perfections.

Liz was so caught up in these thoughts, that she did not even notice that their little party of three had been joined by a fourth. Eager for a chance to escape Colin's simpering attentions, Charlotte decided to take a dip in the sea, hoping to outswim him and thus rid herself of his company.

Once Charlotte and Colin departed towards the waves, Liz lay down on her stomach, and said coquettishly. "So how about a back massage then, Mr. Darcy?" To the devil with George Wickham's misfortunes and even dear Jane's depression. To the devil with everything, for just this one moment! Lizzy was a woman, after all; she could not fully ignore the thrilling power she held over possibly the most handsome man she had ever encountered and the tingly sensations that thought sent through her now fully alert and aroused body. For just this one massage, she could pretend like he wasn't a conceited, self-indulgent, arrogant bastard.

Fitzwilliam was beyond ecstatic. He had hardly allowed himself to hope, over those lonely weeks, that he would make this much progress with her this soon. He realized that he owed his present amazingly good fortune in part to his body (he could not have helped but notice Elizabeth's appraising look moments before, even though he was largely preoccupied with his study of her own delightful figure), but at this point he couldn't care less. The important thing was that she wanted him, at least some part of him, and that she was inviting him to finally live out one of his aching fantasies.

Carefully, tentatively, he positioned himself over her perfectly shaped bottom, and began to move his hands expertly over her back. He felt her wriggle with pleasure under his palms, and his grin broadened. Quickly, Fitzwilliam cast a glance around himself to ensure that they were quite alone, for the soft feel of her sumptuous behind against his thighs had intensified the uncomfortable tightness in his swimming shorts.

Satisfied that they were not observed, he let himself fully savor the delightful moment. He imagined that she was his, that she would welcome his attentions always as she did just now, that he would have the right to massage her beautiful back for the rest of his life, that they were a real couple vacationing together. Invigorated by these fantasies, he lowered himself to her back, and placed a soft kiss on her neck. Under him, he felt Elizabeth tense, yet he heard the sudden hitch in her breathing, and continued placing tender kisses down her spine, moving himself lower against her form, all the way down to the small of her back, delighting in the feel of her skin and the sound of her soft moans under his ministrations. Eventually, his chin brushed gently against the crack between two perfectly round cheeks of her bottom, and Elizabeth quickly sat up.

This was too much. She had let things go to far. She should have stopped him when he placed the first kiss. But God, his lips felt so divinely good! Yet she could not forget herself entirely. She could not forget about Greg only to satisfy her carnal desires with a man whom she had no intention of having a real relationship with. So she took a large breath to calm her erratic breathing, cast a glance at William's disappointed, apologetic face, and rose to her feet.

"I'm going for a swim." Her voice was still shaking.

"May I join you?" He was visibly nervous, undoubtedly realizing that he had gone too far.

"Of course," she said as emotionlessly as she could, and the pair walked to the waves.

"Do you and Charlotte prefer the ocean to the hotel's swimming pools?" He asked casually, only to make some conversation.

"Yes," she replied with equal apathy. "I've always preferred natural waves. And since this preference is not widespread, it's much less crowded here."

They were standing in the water now, the soft waves caressing their legs.

William came up to Elizabeth, and put his hands gently on her arms. "Look, Lizzy, I am very sorry for what just happened. I'll be better, I promise, I'll take things slower. Please forgive me?" Ever the optimist, William was misunderstanding Elizabeth's reticence. From her visible discomfort following his adoration, he assumed that she was simply coy. The happy thought that she might be a virgin briefly crossed his mind. How wonderful it would be to be her only lover! He deeply regretted that he could not offer the same to her, having bedded a dozen women in the past decade, but he would be offering her everything else: his undying love and faithfulness for the rest of his life, his most ardent adoration every moment of every day, and absolutely everything else – he would do anything she would ever ask.

But no, even William's hopeful imagination understood that the notion of Elizabeth's continued virginity was a highly unlike one. She was, after all, an absolutely gorgeous twenty-year-old woman, and did not appear to possess any particularly old-fashioned religious views. Yet she did not seem like the kind to sleep around, so William satisfied himself with taking her reticence for shyness of a young girl not terribly experienced in love. The truth that she was merely wary of cheating on Greg never crossed his mind. God, even the thought of her having slept with Greg had not occurred to him.

"It's alright, William." He heard her say at last, and then she ran nonchalantly into the waves, leaving him to follow her with alacrity.


	23. Chapter 23

They splashed, and ran, and jumped the waves, filling the air with brilliant laughter. Finally, Fitzwilliam noticed that Charlotte and Colin had returned to the shore and were now motioning to him and Elizabeth to do the same. It must be lunchtime. With his good mood stimulated by the half-hour of playfulness in the waves, William walked up to Elizabeth, and swept her up in his perfect arms.

She was too dumbfounded to protest, and once she awakened from her shock, the sensation of being carried in those hard, strong, magnificent arms was too pleasant to stop. So instead, she placed her head on his shoulder and savored the physical comfort.

Once they reached their beach towels, William deposited her gently on her feet, but kept his arms wrapped lovingly around her. He leaned down to kiss her, but stopped himself at the last moment, remembering that he had gone too far once already. No, he would take things slow from now on, no matter how much he wanted her, and how crazy he was driven by her.

Recovering from her tingling sensations, Elizabeth awkwardly picked up her beach towel and her bag, wrapped a colorful sarong around her waist, and headed away from the waves, unsure where exactly she was going, but trying to avoid William's scorching gaze and the others' curious looks.

Charlotte caught up with her, while the two men walked behind. Fitzwilliam wanted to hear the conversation between his beloved and her friend, but not wishing to cause her any further discomfort trailed a few steps behind. The sound of the waves, coupled with Colin's simpering attempts at conversation, prevented him from overhearing a single word.

"Lizzy, oh my God! Carried by _Fitzwilliam Darcy_," Charlotte playfully poked her friend and broke into radiant laughter.

"Don't even mention it, Char. I don't know what came over that man."

"Don't you?" Charlotte gave her an expressive wink. Then her expression grew serious. "But do tell: what does it feel like in those perfect gorgeous arms?"

"Honestly? I think I nearly melted," Lizzy answered thoughtfully. But then, regaining her senses, she added hastily: "But it will not do. I cannot like him. Those flirtations must end."

Charlotte did not have time to argue, as Colin awkwardly ran up to them and grabbed her arm. "I was thinking, ladies, that we could take our lunch at the Sundeck Café. It's a lovely little place, very elegant and upscale." At this, he lifted his chin proudly, waiting for the girls to be impressed. Noticing Fitzwilliam Darcy walk up to their trio and gallantly take Elizabeth's arm, however, he added hurriedly: "Of course, I am sure Mr. Darcy is used to even finer establishments. But you girls will be quite impressed, I dare say. The menu is exquisite… very expensive of course, but I will can care of _your _bill, my darling," he magnanimously said to Charlotte, who was blushing with embarrassment at his smug expression and utter lack of subtlety.

"Indeed, it is a rather pleasant place. I hope you both like it." Fitzwilliam tried to diffuse the situation, and the two couples walked to the beach café.

The café was indeed very pleasant, albeit somewhat too flashy for Elizabeth's tastes. The maitre d' appeared to be acquainted with Fitzwilliam Darcy, and they were immediately led to a secluded table beautifully situated on a small deck among the ocean waves. Once they were seated, Elizabeth finally asked the question that had been nagging at the back of her mind ever since she received her breakfast that morning from a most unexpected source. "William, how did you know we would be here?"

He smiled softly. "I would know if the love of my life checked into one of my hotels."

"Your hotels? You don't mean to say that Rosings Park is…"

"Oh yes, Eliza, did you not know?" Colin's obnoxious voice cut in. "The great Mr. Darcy has bought Rosings Park only two months before. His aunt, the noble Mrs. Catherine de Bourgh, has been managing it for him. She has more experience with hotels, you see, since her late husband ran a hotel business, or more like _empire_. I am sure that Mr. Darcy's business sense is equally impeccable, but no one could be better qualified to manage a hotel than my grand employer. Oh Eliza, how uncouth of you, not to realize what a great man we were with! We shall always remember with pride this day spent in the company of the grand Mr. Darcy."

"I did not know you were in the hotel business, Mr. Darcy," was all Elizabeth said.

"I am not, dear. It was merely an investment. I was reluctant at first, as I would not have enough time to care for it. But it was an amazing investment opportunity, and I see that my aunt is doing a competent job taking care of it." He smiled and reached out for Lizzy's hand. "But let us not speak of business, dearest."

Colin's eyes narrowed at yet another clear sign of affection from Mr. Darcy to the undeserving Eliza Bennet. That would not do! He had heard from Mrs. de Bourgh that Mr. Darcy was intended for her daughter, Anne, to unite the fortunes. Mrs. de Bourgh was not related to Mr. Darcy by blood – she had married his second uncle, a cousin of his mother's. After that gentleman died of a heart attack, she remarried, and Anne was a product of this second union, thus also not blood-related to Fitzwilliam. This was the explanation Colin received from his illustrious employer when his face inadvertently betrayed his surprise at an intended marriage between what appeared to be third cousins.

Colin knew that Mrs. de Bourgh would be incensed at Mr. Darcy's present behavior, and attempted to subtly warn him, whispering in his ear:

"My esteemed Mr. Darcy, your kindness is unsurpassed, to us all, and especially to the young Elizabeth. But it is really too much to show so much attention to a plain small-town girl. And I dare say _Anne _would not approve, Mr. Darcy," he finished conspiratorially. Perhaps subtlety was not Colin's thing, after all.

Fitzwilliam looked at him sternly. "I thank you for your concern, Mr. Smith. But there are two points on which you appear to be mistaken. Firstly, I see no reason why Miss de Bourgh's opinion should in any way concern me. And second, I would appreciate it if you showed Miss Bennet here the respect she deserves, or at least refrained from criticizing her, especially in my hearing. No attention of mine could ever be more than she deserves, and I am always _eager _to show her any attention in my power, as long as she permits me to do so."

At this, as if to demonstrate the truth of his words, he softly lifted Lizzy's hand from the table, and bought it close to his lips. "May I?" He asked gallantly, and upon her baffled nod, placed a very tender kiss on her knuckles. He then bowed his head slightly, and quietly pronounced "Thank you, madam," before placing it back on the table.

Colin gazed open-mouthed. His anger was growing. What was this girl about? First she refused him and now, instead of wallowing in regret over having slighted the most promising suitor she could possibly expect, she receives the attentions of no less than Mr. Darcy! His employer's wealthy nephew, the owner of the hotel, and the illustrious man featured in the _Wall Street Journal _only the day before as the most promising new billionaire!

The remainder of lunch progressed in awkward silence. Following Fitzwilliam's display, Elizabeth pinned him with an intent look, astonished by his elegant handling of Colin's offenses, and attempting to reconcile her own flurry of mixed emotions towards the handsome man. Colin was quite naturally no longer inclined to open his mouth, lest he offend the worthy gentleman again. Fitzwilliam was uncomfortable under his beloved's gaze. Was she approving? Disapproving? What did she think of him? Would she welcome him? Charlotte simply smiled into her cup of coffee, amused and happy for her friend.

When at last lunch was over and the bill was placed on Mr. Darcy's account (much to Lizzy's visible chagrin and Colin's sycophant gratitude), Elizabeth, eager to be alone with her friend, excused the two girls, making it clear that they did not wish for the men's company. Albeit with a fallen face, Fitzwilliam consented readily, comforting himself with the expectation of seeing her that evening for dinner at his aunt's. Colin simply followed Mr. Darcy, reminding the girls to not be late. They were to be picked up at exactly 6:30PM.

Once alone, the two girls reached an unspoken agreement not to discuss either of the two gentlemen, and instead spent a delightful afternoon getting to know the town and preparing for the grand dinner hosted by Colin's "illustrious employer."


	24. Chapter 24

At half past six, the two women came down to the hotel's lobby. Fitzwilliam and Colin were already awaiting them by the reception desk. It was clear from the staff's looks and excessively respectful demeanor, that Mr. Darcy's presence in his own hotel was by no means unnoticed. That fact was further supported by appreciative stares from the female hotel patrons. Mr. Darcy certainly looked stunning in a tuxedo.

Fitzwilliam appeared slightly uncomfortable from all the attention. When at last he spotted Elizabeth descending the stairs into the lobby, his discomfiture evaporated and was replaced by a brilliant smile at his radiant beloved. She looked delightful in a dark purple summer dress, accentuated by large silver earnings and matching high-heel open-toe shoes.

As she and Charlotte approached them, both William and Colin bowed, though one managed to make it look playful and elegant, while the other was simply disgusting. Each gentleman then offered an arm to the lady he wished to court, and the four of them left the hotel.

Once inside William's personal limousine, Lizzy playfully asked. "Does your aunt always require tuxedos?"

"She does like formality, yes," he smiled at her.

"Oh goodness, what am I doing in a summer dress then? I better go and change."

"You will do no such thing. You look beautiful," he murmured leaning close to her ear.

"But would she not disapprove?"

"Who cares?"

With this, he pierced her with such an intense look full of adoration, that Elizabeth blushed and looked away uncomfortably. They were silent for the remainder of the short ride.

Once they arrived, William dismissed his chauffeur, and led the guests into his aunt's house. A large, imposing, and ridiculously ornate house. Only now did Elizabeth fully appreciate William's mansion in Meryton. At least it had taste. _This _though – this five-story building surrounded by ludicrous shrubbery-statutes – was a painfully obvious show-off.

What was worse, the hostess fully befitted her manor. Elizabeth had to stifle a giggle when she first met Mrs. Catherine de Bourgh and witnessed Colin's immediate jog to her side. The employer was a remarkably good fit for the employee. It was difficult to imagine a better subject for Colin's ludicrous flattery. The woman was exceedingly tall, proud, dressed in an overly ornate, glamorous dress that hardly belonged in the twenty-first century. The large diamond pendant on a silver chain around her neck was clashing glaringly with the equally ostentatious gold and ruby earrings.

The woman granted Colin a condescending smile, raised an eyebrow at Charlotte (whose hand she had noticed Colin holding before he ran up to greet his noble employer, and who therefore was clearly his chosen dame), swept Elizabeth with nothing more than a disdainful look, and at last broke into an unexpectedly sycophant smile at her nephew. Apparently, this lady was an even better fit for Colin than Elizabeth had thought: she too was not a stranger to sucking-up when it came to her handsome nephew – owner of the hotel and intended husband for her daughter.

"Ah William, how good of you to come! I thought you said yesterday that you couldn't make it?"

"I changed my mind, ma'am," Fitzwilliam replied politely but coolly. He did not elaborate further. After all, there was no need to inform his aunt that his change of heart was prompted by the unexpected revelation that his aunt's tedious dinner would be graced with Lizzy's charming company tonight.

"Well, I am certainly glad you have." Mrs. de Brourgh smiled widely. "I had resigned myself to a dull evening of charitably entertaining those small-town folk. But now with your company, I dare say my time will be spent in a far more pleasant manner. And I am sure _Anne _will be very happy to see you." At this, she gave him a conspiratorial wink.

Mr. Darcy flinched uncomfortably, and threw a sideways glance at Lizzy.

His astute aunt followed his eyes, and her expression hardened immediately as she regarded Lizzy, her mouth shutting into a disdainful line, and her head shooting up with pride.

She then gave the first open sign of attention to her two female guests. "And who are these ladies, Colin? I believe you mentioned that one of your guests would be your girlfriend and the other her friend? Care to make the introductions?"

Charlotte cringed at the word "girlfriend," while Colin rushed to her side to do his employer's bidding, and proceeded to make the introduction.

"Indeed, this is my lovely girlfriend, Charlotte Lucas." He reclaimed Charlotte's hand. "And this, my little angel, is the noble and illustrious Mrs. Catherine de Bourgh. She runs several hotels of her own, and recently took over the management of Rosings Park for Mr. Darcy."

"It's a pleasure meeting you, Mrs. de Brough," Charlotte said politely.

"Likewise," was the grand lady's curt reply, followed by: "Well, shall we proceed to the dining parlor?"

Elizabeth merely lifted one eyebrow at the obvious slight intended by the ridiculous woman who apparently refused to verbally acknowledge her presence and attempted to prevent any introduction between them. Fitzwilliam, however, was annoyed rather than amused.

"Aunt," he stopped her sternly. "Allow me to introduce you to the lovely Miss Elizabeth Bennet." He then gallantly turned to Lizzy: "Elizabeth, this is my Aunt Catherine."

"Nice to meet you, Catherine." Lizzy extended her hand with a twinkle of glee in her eyes.

Noticing her nephew's hard look, Catherine recollected enough manners to give the offered hand a quick shake, but replied coldly: "It's Mrs. de Brourgh."

This only fueled Lizzy's amusement, and she replied slyly: "And you may call me Lizzy." With this, she put on the widest sarcastic smile she had ever mustered in her life.

Catherine stiffened slightly at the subtle put-down implied in the girl's excessive politeness following her own incivility.

Fitzwilliam only marveled at his lovely beloved's ability to handle others' rudeness, and glued his eyes on her quite permanently for the evening, offering her his arm as they walked to the dining parlor, and rejoicing in her acceptance.

As they entered the parlor, the group was met with two more people. Before his aunt had a chance to make another uncivil display, Fitzwilliam aptly took introductions into his own hands.

"Elizabeth, may I have the pleasure of introducing you to my cousins Richard Fitzwilliam and Anne de Bourgh?"

At her automatic nod, he gently led her to the two young people standing awkwardly next to the dining table, and motioned for Charlotte and Colin to follow.

Elizabeth studied her new acquaintances. The man was tall, with a somewhat heavy frame and large shoulders. He looked possibly even more imposing than Fitzwilliam, but – albeit quite handsome – nowhere nearly as beautiful. He had sandy hair, a large but straight nose, and a self-assured but fairly endearing smile. Overall, Lizzy decided that he must be an extremely easy-going, charming man. A Charles Bingley with a little less sweetness and naiveté and a little more experience and mischief. The memory of Charles and Jane made Lizzy frown for a split second, so instead she turned to examine the girl. Anne – that was the name of the girl Fitzwilliam's aunt intended him to wed. That recollection caused Lizzy a good amount of amusement as she observed the mousy, sickly-looking girl with a pert nose and a very stern face.

Meanwhile, Fitzwilliam was continuing his round of introductions. "Richard, Anne, allow me to introduce Elizabeth Bennet, her friend Charlotte Lucas, and the assistant manager of my hotel, Colin Smith."

Richard's eyes shone with merriment as he noticed the lovely brunette next to his cousin. The attention Fitzwilliam paid to the girl was unmistakable, and what amused Richard most was that this girl was so different from all of William's previous girlfriends: she was not hanging on him with smoldering eyes. If anything, she appeared far less enamored than he. While she did blush slightly at his attentions, she simultaneously seemed to be almost annoyed by them. Fitzwilliam, on the other hand, had an unmistakable grin every time his eyes traced over her pretty face. This should be good fun indeed, Richard thought, anticipating the teasing to which he could subject his usually smug and self-assured sex god of a cousin.

Once her nephew finished his round of introductions, which were by no means to her taste, Catherine took things into her hands. "Let us sit to dinner." Before anyone had a chance to take a seat, however, she lifted her hand in a halting motion, signaling that the she would take care of the seating arrangement. She walked over to a chair, and stood behind it. Then turned to her daughter: "Anne, dearest, come sit next to me." Anne walked over obediently. "William, please take the other seat next to Anne." A smile and an inviting motion. He did not move yet, however. "Richard, why don't you sit on my other side." She made a wave towards to intended seat; Richard did as told. "Charlotte, the seat next to William." She only gave the vaguest nod of her head to acknowledge the young girl. And finally: "Colin, you may sit next to your little love." And that was all. No mention of Elizabeth, no invitation.

Seething at yet another slight, William chose to remain polite. But he absolutely had to teach his aunt some manners. Yet he could not simply ignore her orders and do what he really wished to do – sit next to his lovely Elizabeth. It was Catherine's house, after all, and she had the right to arrange the seating. So instead, he gallantly took Elizabeth's arm, and with a soft "Allow me," led her to the only seat left out from his aunt's instructions: the seat between Colin and Richard. Reaching the spot, he tenderly released her arm, and expertly pulled out the chair.

His heart raced as he was rewarded with a brilliant smile from his Lizzy as she sat down. Once she was comfortably seated, he pushed her chair in for her, and gave a curt bow before walking over to his own place, and taking his seat nonchalantly, a lively smile playing across his lips at the five pairs of shocked eyes looking at him, and one extremely fine pair gazing on with friendly amusement and – dare he hope? – appreciation.

At last, Catherine coughed and took her own seat, motioning for everyone else to follow. To say that she was upset by her nephew's actions would be an understatement. She was seething, positively enraged. How dare he ignore her daughter and show such attentions to some stupid small-town nobody? She had never heard of Elizabeth Bennet before, and as such was sure that the girl did _not _move in the same social circles as they did. Had Fitzwilliam lost his mind? What was he doing with such an unimportant little slut?

Her strategy of ignoring Elizabeth had clearly not worked, and only caused her silly nephew to make his attentions more apparent. So instead, she resorted to Plan B: instead of pretending that Elizabeth did not exist, she now turned her full attention to the girl, questioning her in an attempt to expose her utter unsuitability and fully ridicule her.

"So Elizabeth," she said with a saccharine fake smile. "I hear you are from Meryton. It's a rather small town, is it not?"

"Indeed, madam," Elizabeth replied in an even tone, her chin lifted, and her smile matching that of her interrogator. Liz was taken aback for a moment by the fact that Mrs. de Bourgh was actually speaking to her, but immediately guessed the grand lady's intent.

"There isn't much there, I heard. The entire population is quite totally dependent on Pemberley Corp for employment. Is that so?"

"I suppose," Elizabeth replied in as apathetic a tone as possible, attempting to keep her cool.

"Do you work there, Eliza?"

Lizzy cringed at the unpleasant nickname. "I do not. In fact, I have moved away from Meryton three years ago, _Catherine_."

Mrs. de Bourgh frowned and glared. "I told you to call me Mrs. de Brough."

"Pardon me, madam. But I am afraid you told that to _Lizzy_, and not to _Eliza_." Liz gave an excessively sweet smile, while Charlotte, Richard, and Fitzwilliam snorted in their attempts to stifle their laughter. Anne seemed completely oblivious, and Colin looked mortified. Catherine was simply raging with anger.

At last, she chose to ignore the last comment, unable to make a witty comeback. So she turned back to her interrogation.

"So were do you live now? Some other town in Alabama?"

"Elizabeth resides in New York City, aunt." Fitzwilliam's voice was stern and cool, bidding his aunt to cease her questions.

"Ah… I see. And what do you do there, Miss Bennet?"

"I study at Columbia." Lizzy was growing tired of the conversation. The lady was ludicrous, but Liz was no longer amused. She was simply annoyed.

Catherine was taken aback slightly by Lizzy's latest answer. The girl was not as easy to ridicule as she had thought. So she turned instead to her family.

"And your parents? What do they do?"

"My father works for Pemberley," Lizzy slightly cringed. "My mother stays at home."

"Ah, yes, of course, it would be Pemberley! There is not much else in Meryton, after all. How fortunate for you that the Darcys keep their headquarters there. If the entire town is financially dependent on them, I cannot imagine what you would do without Pemberley Corp. You must all feel very grateful towards my William for affording you a comfortable, albeit undeniably rather simple, lifestyle."

"Aunt, that is _quite enough_," William was surprised to find himself hissing. Pausing for a moment to regain a calm, indifferent tone, he continued: "Meryton offers an ideal place for headquarters, and I am extremely grateful to all my employees for their exceptional performance."

"Of course, William dear," Catherine said disgruntled. Then back to Elizabeth: "So tell me, Lizzy, -"

"I said enough, aunt," William cut her off abruptly.

All eyes went between him and his aunt with curiosity. There was a stone silence.

Until at last, giving in to her discomfort and unwilling to suffer any more of the present unpleasant company, Lizzy stood up. "Right, I should get going. Thank you for dinner, Mrs. de Bourgh." She nodded curtly, her lips forming a straight line and her eyes cold.

"Won't you stay for dessert, Miss Bennet?" To everyone's surprise it was Richard who spoke first. He was by no means willing to part with the chestnut-haired beauty's presence, not if it drove William to be more assertive with their aunt than he had ever seen him before.

Elizabeth gave him a smile. "Thank you, Mr. Fitzwilliam. But I would not wish to impose any further on Mrs. de Bourgh's hospitality. Good evening."

As she was about to leave, William stood up gingerly. "But you must have dessert, Miss Bennet," his eyes twinkled merrily as he imitated his cousin's formal address. "Allow me to treat you. There is a lovely place in town I have been yearning to show you."

Elizabeth was about to decline, but his eager smile, his loving eyes, his expectant look made her completely unable to do so. Besides, she recalled that she had never spoken to him that afternoon, when she wanted to let him know that she had forgiven him for not standing up for her in front of Giana. She had promised to Giana that she would give him a chance, but then George Wickham's revelations and Jane's misfortunes renewed her despising of William's character. But now, after the way he defended her from his own aunt, she felt like she had to make good on that promise to Georgiana Darcy from weeks ago. She was still angry with him, and she could never actually have any real relationship with a man who had ruined her most beloved sister's happiness. But at the same time, she somehow felt that she at least owed him a chance to take her out for dessert.

Fitzwilliam shifted nervously at her lengthy reflection. Was she going to reject him? "Elizabeth?" He woke her from her reverie. "If… if you're not hungry, p-perhaps I could take you some other time?" He looked her almost desperately. "Please?"

_'Did my cousin just stutter?' _Richard thought with excitement. Oh, this shall be very, very fun indeed!

She smiled, and walked over. Taking his arm, she replied at last: "Sorry, William. I was lost in thought. Of course, I would be happy to go."

They approached the door in complete silence, when Charlotte spoke uneasily to the remaining guests. "Right, I should get going too." She had no wish to remain with Colin and an enraged Mrs. de Bourgh now that Lizzy was leaving. "Good night."

At that moment, Richard noticed for the first time this previously silent girl. She was not as beautiful as Lizzy, but she looked pleasant, welcoming. Softer, gentler. She appeared practical and smart. He was suddenly entranced.

Liz felt guilty for almost forgetting her best friend. "Char, why don't you come with us!" She noticed William's face fall with disappointment, but chose to ignore it. So what if it ruined his plans of taking her out? She would much rather ease any discomfort Charlotte might have felt. Besides, she had a _boyfriend_, for God's sake, why would she be going out with William anyway?

Before Charlotte had a chance to answer, Richard cut in: "Of course, what a lovely idea! Let us all go for desserts. May I join?" Without waiting for an answer, he rose, grabbed Charlotte's hand, and followed Lizzy and William out of the door.

Catherine expressed all her frustration with a simple huff. And then she was left to vent out her anger and disappointment to the poor, complying Colin.


	25. Chapter 25

The four young people got into Fitzwilliam Darcy's car and sped away from Rosings Park.

"To the Farina Bakery, please, Jacob," Fitzwilliam directed his chauffeur, and then turned with a wide grin to the girl on his right, and with a hopeful look took her small hand in his. Richard smirked and did the same with Charlotte's hand, causing her to start slightly from surprise at his touch. Yet the touch was by no means unpleasant, and as soon as Richard began showing her attention, she was puzzled to notice how attracted she felt towards this large, stately man. He felt at once exciting and familiar, and most importantly somehow welcoming.

Once they arrived at the bakery, Lizzy was not surprised to note that yet again the manager appeared to be familiar with Fitzwilliam Darcy, and they were immediately served with the full assortment of the bakery's delicious desserts.

Lizzy chuckled. "Do you truly expect us to eat all of this, William?"

He simply shrugged. "I wanted you to try anything you liked."

"You could have let me order." He looked adorably sheepish at this, and she squeezed his hand with a wink, at once putting him completely at ease.

The conversation was pleasant and casual between the four friends, until William grew suddenly serious, and said earnestly: "Elizabeth, I'm very sorry for my aunt's behavior."

She simply smiled. "It's alright, William, we are not responsible for our relatives. I have a silly mother of my own, remember? Besides, for my part I should say that I am very grateful for the way you stood up for me in front of your aunt."

"It was the least I could do," he replied sincerely, and brought her hand gallantly to his lips. Lizzy was embarrassed to realize how much she was beginning to enjoy this gesture.

After an hour of desserts and lively conversation, Lizzy's disposition had become miraculously bright, and with a half-teasing grin, she suddenly exclaimed: "Oh goodness, Charlotte, we have not adequately explored the nightlife of Cancun yet. What do you say to a lively evening of dancing?"

Charlotte blushed when, following Lizzy's question, she noticed Richard's intense look on herself. But she agreed with Lizzy's plan immediately. The two gentlemen were equally ready to assent. The entire group appeared to fit perfectly together, and something about their casual, relaxing desert-hour had put everyone into a remarkable cheerful mood.

The young people made a stop at Rosings Park, where Fitzwilliam Darcy was able to not only change out of his tuxedo into pair of black slacks and a casual light gray polo shirt, but also offer a change of clothing to Richard, who had absolutely no intention of returning to his aunt's house that evening.

A few minutes later, they arrived at the La Farandula club for a night of careless salsa dancing. As they were walking in, Richard's eyes suddenly acquired a new sly spark. Whatever his attraction to Charlotte was, his merriment at teasing his stoic and haughty cousin was greater. He simply could not pass such an opportunity.

And so it was that immediately upon their arrival, he requested Elizabeth Bennet's hand for the first dance. The dark and nearly menacing glare he received from Fitzwilliam was all the reward he needed.

Lizzy was somewhat confused by the invitation to dance from a man who, she could clearly see, was more interested in her friend. She had implicitly assumed that Charlotte would dance with Richard, and she would have to endure the company of the gorgeous Mr. Darcy. Which would not be such an awful fate, of course, since her love of dancing outweighed her hatred of the man (which, however much she hated to admit it, was diminishing by the minute; in truth, she was clearly _enjoying_ herself in Fitzwilliam's company).

Liz reluctantly took Richard's hand, and cast a stealthy glance at Charlotte's confused and – Liz thought – sad-looking face. Just as the couple was walking unto the dance floor, she whispered into William's ear: "Don't just stand there; ask Charlotte to dance!"

He complied instantly, and his annoyance at seeing Richard dance with his intended partner was somewhat appeased by the fact that Lizzy actually asked him to do something. It was an infinite improvement from a few days back, when she would not even speak to him. And so it was, that as he began to twirl Charlotte in a masterful salsa, his mood was once again lightening, and he was looking forward with a pleasant anticipation to the next dance – the one he could share with Lizzy.

"You really like her," Charlotte's merry voice broke his reverie.

"Of course," he smiled at her.

"And it's clear that she likes you too," she encouraged him. But then her brows furrowed slightly, and she added thoughtfully: "But it's a physical attraction more than anything else. It's not viable without some sort of spoken understanding. She likes you and resents you even more for it. That won't do; it won't make a healthy foundation for a relationship. You need to talk things out with her, clear whatever misunderstandings there may be. Don't just go on smothering her physically, or she'll explode in your face, I guarantee it."

William thought over her words, and at last gave her a sincere, grateful smile. "You are right, Charlotte, so right. And thank you for your thoughtful advice. I'll talk to her as soon as I can. Tonight perhaps, or better tomorrow. I want to start a proper relationship with her, to take her out on dates, to be her boyfriend, her partner, to be able to call her mine." As he was finishing the last sentence, his eyes wondered to Elizabeth's mesmerizing form as she twirled in Richard's arms. She was definitely an amazing dancer.

It was at that point that the music came to a halt, and the two men exchanged partners, one with a boyish eagerness, the other – with a teasing smirk.

Fitzwilliam could hardly believe it. There she was, back in his arms, dancing. It seemed like a lifetime ago that he twirled her in a tango at his fated soiree. Yet here she was, back were she belonged, and even more beautiful than ever. Or perhaps it was his months-long celibacy coupled with several weeks of fruitless pining that made his attraction to her even more acute.

He admired Lizzy's dancing, and her risqué techniques encouraged his own experimentation. He was not a bad dancer himself, and now that he fully dropped his reserve and reveled in the feel of the sensual woman in his arms, they made an amazing pair.

Suddenly dipping Elizabeth backwards and leaning towards her, William briefly brushed his nose against her flushed neck, and then lifted her back, pressing himself tight against her and whispering heatedly into her ear: "I feared I would never get to dance with you again. My God, Elizabeth, I had almost forgotten what an unearthly pleasure it is."

Lizzy was about to respond, when their dance was suddenly interrupted by a group of giddy, loquacious, and clearly inebriated American girls. With loud shrieks of "Oh my God, it's Fitzwilliam Darcy!" they enveloped the dancing couple, and instantly hung themselves onto Fitzwilliam's arms, which only tightened themselves around Elizabeth from unconscious fear of losing her in the new giggling crowd.

Seeing Ftizwilliam's confused and uncomfortable look, Lizzy began to laugh uncontrollably. When at last she recovered from her merriment, she turned to the newcomers, and asked sweetly, "Is there anything I can do for you, ladies?"

Apparently, it was only then that the girls noticed Lizzy. Fitzwilliam's prominent form and by-now nationally famous features had captured their undivided attention until that moment. So with some confusion, they now turned at Lizzy and gawked stupidly at her. She in turned took a moment to study this diverting group. There were three girls in total, none older than twenty - perhaps somewhere between sixteen and eighteen. Lizzy thought with amusement that they were far too young to be at a salsa club at this hour, and in such a state. But they looked like simple, naive teenage girls, and somehow she discovered that she pitied them.

When one of them (the oldest, Lizzy thought) at last collected enough of her thoughts to speak, she exclaimed excitedly, turning again to Mr. Darcy: "Sir, are you Fitzwilliam Darcy?"

"I... um..." He seemed to be at a complete loss as to what he should say in return. Something in the back of his mind suggested that in situations such as this it would be best to lie and answer no. Yet he had never before had to lie about his name, and found that he did not quite know how to do so convincingly.

Lizzy faced a similar dilemma. She understood from Fitzwilliam's discomfiture that he would rather not be recognized by the general public in such a cacophonous way, but she was much too amused to relieve his discomfort. "Yes, ladies, he is," she answered at last with a twinkle in her eyes. "Is there anything you need from this gentleman?"

The girls all shrieked simultaneously when Lizzy confirmed the man's identity, and, once they calmed down, asked for the notorious man's autograph. William complied grudgingly, and was rewarded with the noisy ladies' subsequent departure.

"Why didn't you save me?" He half-teased Lizzy after they left and he recovered.

"And what would be the fun in that, William?" She teased back. They had left the dance floor by then, and were now enjoying some drinks. Lizzy smiled at her companion, and then a thought occurred to her. "But you looked so confused and uncomfortable. Surely, you should be used to being famous now."

"But I am not used to being recognized in such a loud fashion," he said seriously.

Lizzy furrowed her brow. "But surely, it would be the same in any bar in America."

He looked a bit sheepish then, and replied honestly: "I have not gone out much recently. I've spent all my time in Meryton working, and all trips were quick and consisted solely of business. Until now..."

He left the rest unsaid, but she comprehended perfectly. The reason for his constant work and no pleasure, for the fact that he had not so much as gone out to a bar in a month - was clearly her. Lizzy remained silent for a moment, thinking. She then chose to ignore that which he left unsaid, and replied to his words teasingly: "Oh my, Mr. Darcy, what a workaholic you've become! No wonder Pemberley has been doing so well. But what will happen now? Surely, you cannot stay here doing nothing like this!"

That was apparently the wrong thing to say, for he pierced her with his intense gaze, and replied in a lower, huskier voice: "I don't care, Elizabeth. I don't care what happens to Pemberley in my absence, and you _know _there's nowhere I'd rather be right now than here." He then lowered his head slightly towards her, and fixed his burning gaze on her sumptuous lips.

Lizzy panicked, and before he had time to do anything more, she abruptly moved away, and squeaked out: "I-I should go find Charlotte. I-It's getting late."

With that, she rose from her seat, and nearly ran away. Away from the gorgeous, perturbing man who had almost kissed her. How could she have let him come so close to doing so?

She searched feverishly for Charlotte throughout the club. But her friend was nowhere to be found, and, Lizzy noticed, neither was Richard. Just as she was running out of breath and despairing at finding Charlotte, Lizzy found herself running into something warm and very hard. She looked up and with chagrin realized that the pleasant sensation that suddenly took over her body was due to the fact that she now found herself in Fitzwilliam Darcy's arms.

"Did you find your friend?" He asked amicably, not releasing her from his embrace.

Liz could do no more than shake her head no. She was attempting not to breath at all, lest she inhale that intoxicating masculine scent.

"My cousin seems to have disappeared also. Lets go ask the bouncer if he has seen them."

He then began to walk, leading Lizzy with him, his right hand placed firmly on the small of her back.

The bouncer had indeed noticed the other couple, and assured Liz and William that their friends had departed the club some half an hour earlier.

"Perhaps Charlotte's back at the hotel?" Lizzy asked uncertainly. _'And even if she's not, I can just go back to my room and go to sleep, and hopefully stop thinking about _him,' she decided.

"Perhaps," William replied, and called his chauffeur. The car arrived within mere minutes, and the two young people were taken back to Rosings Park. The ride was silent, both contemplating the incredible evening. William was rejoicing in the progress he had made, and was now assessing potential next steps. Lizzy was despairing at her undeniable attraction to this dangerous man, and was attempting to decide what course of action she should next pursue. The simple truth was that while she was still as reluctant to let William into her heart as ever, the thought of parting with him was for some reason making her almost anxious.

They arrived at last and silently, wordlessly ascended the elevator to Liz and Charlotte's room. Lizzy then turned towards him, and with a simple "Goodnight" let him know that the evening was over. He nodded, whispered "Goodnight, my love," brought her hand to his lips one last time that night, and began to slowly walk back to the elevator. Lizzy put in her card and entered her hotel suite.

William reclined against the wall as he awaited the elevator. He felt suddenly tired. He closed his eyes and let his mind rest, trying not to think about the bewitching girl who occupied his thoughts every second of every day. But that was not to be - for his moment of calm was abruptly interrupted by a loud cry from his dear Lizzy.


	26. Chapter 26

Without thinking, Lizzy rushed straight to William, and almost flung herself at him, as words began fumbling out of her mouth. "Oh my God, I did _not _need to see that! Ew! Charlotte and Richard - going at it - right in my suite!" She took a calming breath, and then continued in a slightly more even voice: "I mean, they've fucking known each other for only a _day_, and I never expected this from _Charlotte _of all people. She's always been so... reasonable! And she's my best friend, and now my eyes are scarred forever..."

When she first rushed back out of the suite and towards him, William, terrified and worried crazy by her cry, had run towards her and enclosed her in a hungry, desperate protective embrace. But now that realization of what had so startled Lizzy finally dawned on him, he could not help but laugh.

Hearing his laughter, Lizzy lifted her head and pierced him with a withering glare. "Yea, _you _think it's funny. That's because _you _didn't have to walk in on your cousin going at it with my best friend. What's more, they're doing it in my suite - and I can't possibly go back there now. Disgusting! So what am I supposed to do, huh?" She challenged him, staring intently into his beautiful brown eyes.

William's heart fluttered as he realized that she was effectively asking him where she could go while the couple in her suite finished their escapade. This was his chance. Attempting to maintain as calm a voice as possible, he replied casually: "You could come over to my suite for an hour or so, and hopefully they'll be finished soon and you could go right back to your room." He gave her a dazzling smile.

His plan sounded reasonable, but Lizzy was in a grumpy mood. "And what if they're not?" She whined. Great, now she felt like a petulant child.

He simply smiled in return. "Then you can check into a different suite."

"Right," she teased, her good humor finally returning, "I forgot that you own the hotel."

He laughed and escorted her to his suite.

As he opened the door and let her in, she passed so close to his alert and receptive body that he felt suddenly overwhelmed by her sweet scent. He inhaled deeply, and lingered in the doorway for an extra moment, attempting to get his reactions under control. It would not do to attack her as soon as she entered his room, however much he wished to do precisely that. But after all, who could blame him for being so fully aroused when the woman of his dreams was right there, amidst his private accommodations? Yet Charlotte's words rang fresh in his mind, and he groaned at the truth in them. Much had been left unspoken between himself and Elizabeth, and despite the undeniable physical attraction between them, their relationship could not possibly proceed until their minds caught up with their bodies.

And to be honest, his own mind was completely baffled. Why did she avoid him in Meryton? Why did she never come and speak to him when she had promised to do so to Georgiana? He could not possibly believe that Lizzy would knowingly lie to his sister. So then what happened? And why was Lizzy acting so strangely towards him, so hot and cold? More importantly, what had been going on in _her _life those past few weeks? What was she thinking and feeling now? Was there a place for him in her life?

All those questions remained unanswered, but there was one thing he knew with absolute certainly. He needed Lizzy. He needed to get past this frustrating chase, this insane mixture of physical attraction and mental misunderstanding, and finally claim her as his. He needed to clear out their relationship, to make it official - permanent, he inwardly wished.

She walked into the spacious apartment and marveled at its grandeur. She and Charlotte had been given the best suite in the hotel, but it could never match up to Mr. Darcy's private accommodations. The size and layout were similar, but his felt so much grander yet so much more welcoming. The way she felt here - so at peace and so comfortable - was simply... sweet. The furnishings were not like other suites; nothing about them was hotel-like, not even five-star hotel-like. He had decorated his suite himself, and he undeniably had excellent taste. The suite felt like home, even to Elizabeth.

She walked over the over-sized windows and took in the breathtaking ocean views. After a few quiet moments, she felt his hand rest gently on her upper arm. Even though she stayed completely still and in no way acknowledged his touch, she was terribly tempted to simply close her eyes and relish in it. Fitzwilliam's presence was awfully addictive.

"Elizabeth," he spoke softly. "I think we need to talk."

She turned towards him and with a nod encouraged him to continue.

"Elizabeth... you're driving me insane. You know full well how ardently I admire and love you. Please, won't you end my suffering and give me a chance? Let me take you out, let me worship you, let me be your boyfriend or whatever you wish to have me as."

She did not respond immediately. She could not. She was too far lost in his mesmerizing eyes, fighting with all her being the desire to throw herself into this man's arms and take him as hers, even more - to just be his; fighting this desire, yet all the while relishing in it. It was as if he had hypnotized her.

Mistaking Elizabeth's silence for impending rejection, William began to speak more quickly, more heatedly, less coherently, almost desperately: "Elizabeth, you must understand... certainly, you must... These past few weeks have been torture. Not seeing you, not speaking to you - I could barely survive it. And before that, oh God, how you have tormented me! It was a roller-coaster ride of pain and pleasure. But I loved you, I loved you then and I love you now, and won't you just give me a chance? ...Why, Elizabeth? Why are you silent now, why can't you take me and relieve my suffering? For I have suffered enough! Through your silence and through your scorn! You have given me moments of incandescent happiness only to follow them with abysmal misery. That dinner we shared at The Three Crabs - will you believe me if I say it was the best dinner of my life? You made me so happy, and only to follow it with a dinner with that Greg kid the night right after! Did you do that on purpose, Elizabeth?"

Greg's name suddenly brought Elizabeth out of her trance. "What?" She asked in a shaky voice. "What did you say?" She repeated, anger rising in her chest. "You are asking me to go out with you? You want me to forget all about my boyfriend and go off with another man? Do you have no consideration for anyone except yourself, Mr. Darcy?" By the end of her speech, Elizabeth was almost shouting, amazed at this man's audacity and enraged by it.

"Y-your b-boyfriend?" He stammered out, shock flooding over his handsome face. He had not realized that Lizzy and Greg's relationship was quite that serious. He had erroneously assumed that she just kept the boy around to make him jealous. But apparently they had progressed quite smoothly after he was gone from their lives.

"Yes, my boyfriend," she bit back acidly. "I suppose we can consider the matter closed?"

But no! He could not let that happen. "God no, Elizabeth! Can't you see? I _love _you, _adore _you, _worship _you! I _need _you, for God's, and I can see that you want me too! Can you really reject me just because you're with that... that _boy_? Can't you see that you could have so much more?"

_'The nerve of that man! Did he just declare himself more worthy than Greg? But on what grounds? Insufferable, arrogant jerk!'_

"And what could I have that would be 'so much more', Mr. Darcy? Your own precious self?" He was too confused by her sardonic tone to respond, so she continued: "And what makes you so sure that you're better than Greg? Your money, your fame? I don't give a damn about that! I hate your arrogance, and I'll have you know that I am quite happy with my present boyfriend. Goodnight, sir." She then determinedly headed for the door.

But she did not make it even halfway across the room before she was abruptly stopped by two large, strong, manly arms. There was nothing gentle about his hold on her now. No, this embrace was almost rough, devised specifically to prevent her from escaping this room, from escaping from him.

"Come on, Elizabeth," he tilted his head to her ear and spoke into it quietly but firmly. "Do not deny it - you are attracted to me. I would never believe that you are equally attracted to that boy toy of yours. Can't you see? You could have so much more with me. He's just a tepid amusement. I could be more, much more, everything and anything you want. He does not deserve you, he's not suited for you. You could never in your right mind choose _him _over me!"

The amount of disdain he put into the word "him" made a new wave of anger and indignation surge in Lizzy's chest. She forcefully shook off Fitzwilliam's arms, and turned around, facing him now, and shooting daggers at him form her beautiful hazel eyes.

"How dare you?" She yelled. "How dare you speak of him as if he's some piece of trash, a mere amusement, not even a person? What makes _you _so mighty and righteous, Mr. Darcy? Why are _you _better than others? Just because you're rich and famous? Well, no amount of wealth or fame would _ever _tempt me to accept you, you horrible, insufferable, arrogant man! You have absolutely no consideration for the feelings of others! But then, I should have expected as much, after all you've done - to George Wickham, to Jane."

His face suddenly paled. "What did you say?"

"You heard me. I wish to have nothing further to do with the man who has ruined my beloved sister's happiness."

"I don't understand," he said softly, in no more than a whisper. _'What have I done?_' He thought frantically. _'What is she accusing me of?'_

"I heard you! It was all your fault!" And she poked an angry finger into his chest. "It was your fault that Charles left Meryton - and Jane. I heard you the morning before he left. The things you said about my sister - oh God - how dare you! You called her a... a gold-digger!"

For a moment, William simply stood before her, dumbfounded. What was she talking about? He always liked Jane, and never said anything remotely disparaging about her. Then he suddenly remembered the conversation he had with Charles, asking him to leave. Elizabeth had heard! And she had completely misunderstood everything! No wonder she was so upset with him. William felt suddenly light and cheerful. He had found the source of Lizzy's reticence towards him, and that source was a simple misunderstanding - something that could be so easily explained and done away with. His overworked nerves could not support such a sudden relieve, and gave way to hysterical laughter.

His laugh only increased Lizzy's wrath. She spun around and dashed determinedly towards the door.

"Wait!" He called after her as soon as he recovered from his mirth. "You misunderstood. Let me explain!"

"Save it," she answered bitterly, "I've heard enough. After all you have done, you dare to laugh about it!"

She was about to open the door, but William would have none of that. He did the one thing that was sure to shut her up and make her listen. He kissed her.

Their first kiss was forceful and desperate. He held her firmly in his arms and thoroughly worshiped her lips with his, her mouth with his tongue. She was squirming and attempting to extricate herself from his grasp, but her treacherous lips opened willingly, eagerly under his, and her mouth welcomed the forceful invasion. He was claiming her, unable to resist any further all the frustration she was bringing on his exhausted body. And she was at last giving in - to him, and to herself, to her own feelings. After they drew apart both were panting and grasping for air.

"Now you listen to me, Miss Bennet," he said sternly once he recovered from their mind-blowing kiss. "You are obviously not very good at eavesdropping, my dear. What you heard that morning was a conversation I had with Charles about _his_ sister, Caroline. She was growing increasingly desperate in her attempts to seduce me, and when I found her in my bed nearly naked one night, I had had enough. Charles is my good friend, and is always welcome in my house. For his sake, I had tolerated his sister also, as she has no real job and too much spare time, and tends to follow him around, idly spending his money on her spoilt lifestyle. But I felt that I had to tell him: she was no longer welcome at my home. No amount of friendship towards her brother would induce me to tolerate such an invasion of my own privacy. So I asked Charles to take her away, which he did." He paused and drew a deep breath. "Do you understand now?" His facial features softened now, and love and hope shone through them.

"I... I don't know w-what to say," she stammered. William's explanation made perfect sense. After all, she had only overheard bits and pieces of their conversation, and automatically assumed they had been talking about Jane the entire time. But they could have just as easily been discussing Charles's own gold-digging sister. But then, thinking back to that day and Charles's subsequent departure, she asked in a small, uncertain voice: "But he left so abruptly, and didn't even talk to Jane. She only learned of his departure from Caroline's note..."

William shrugged and frowned. "That I cannot answer for. Only Charles can explain his own behavior. But do you believe now that I have done no harm to your dear sister?"

Confused, Liz simply nodded. After all, she had no proof to the contrary, and no real reason to suppose he was lying. Then she remembered the other drudge she held against him, and asked quietly, almost uncertainly: "What about George Wickham?"

"What _about _him?" Lizzy almost shuddered when she noticed the sudden darkening in Fitzwilliam's features. The anger that shone from his eyes was quite menacing.

"Um... I... I met him when I met Greg's family... he's Greg's cousin, you know. And he told me that he was once very close to your father, and later fell in love with your sister. But that you hated him and broke them apart... and then... then you got him expelled from the boarding school you father had sent him to. Now he has to repeat his last year of high school, and he's all alone in the world... and... er..."

Lizzy felt somehow silly recounting this story; all of a sudden, everything she was repeating sounded strange and unlikely to her. So she hurried to add: "I didn't believe him at first, really I didn't. I mean... I didn't know _what_ to believe. I was going to ask you about it. But after hearing what you said about Jane - or what I _thought _you said about Jane," she corrected apologetically, "I decided that he must have been correct. If you really broke up your best friend's romance, who's to say you didn't do the same to your sister? But now that you have explained the situation with Charlie, I was wondering... if maybe... well, perhaps there's something in the Wickham case that I'm missing too?" She finished softly, almost hopefully, looking at him with her large, beautiful eyes, which were beseeching him to exonerate himself here as well, wanting him to prove his good, his worthiness.

He was quiet for some time, thinking how best to answer her, and calming his raging emotions: passion towards this delectable yet frustrating woman that had built up inside him, and anger that had surfaced in his mind at the mere mention of George Wickham's name.

"I suppose I should tell you the entire story. You deserve to hear it, Elizabeth," he said at last. "But please promise to be discrete about it. It is not just my story to share."

She nodded vigorously. "I will not tell a soul, I promise, William."

"George was indeed my father's favorite. He was a bright and lively child, and when his parents - my father's good friends as you may know - passed away, my father took George under his wing. I fully supported that decision, even though it somewhat vexed me that my father, who never had enough time for his own children, was so willing to indulge in this stranger. It felt almost as if he spent more time with George than with Giana, whom he sent to boarding school early on. But that was not what formed my dislike for the youth. You see, as George matured, I began to notice some worrisome tendencies. There was a new girl every time I came to visit, sometimes even several that he would be seeing when he went out. Now, I know what you must be thinking - I have been cruel to women myself. But you know that I was completely unaware of my own vices. I thought I was swarting the ambitions of cunning creatures, not breaking young girls' hearts. I was fairly reticent, and you must believe me when I tell you that I do not have as vast an experience with women as is often portrayed. I have slept with perhaps a dozen women in total in my entire life, and I never dated more than one girl at a time. I was also studious, perhaps to a fault. But George - he did not seem to care about his studies at all. And his grades clearly told that he spent more time with girls and buddies than with books. When my father passed away, I became Giana's guardian, her only parent-figure. I was young and not used to such responsibility; I took it perhaps too seriously, and was overly protective of her. I did not like seeing her with George, and as they began to date, I grew increasingly more skeptical of him. But I would never even dream of breaking apart a loving couple, least of all one of which my darling sister was a part. No, George and Giana stayed together until one morning she called me in tears. She could hardly remember what happened the night before - but one thing was clear... she had passed out... he... must have spiked her drink... and... and... He date-raped her, Lizzy." He choked out the last bit, his voice filled with emotion. And Elizabeth was pained to see the tears in his eyes.

"I'm so sorry," she murmured, taking his hand gently in hers. "I didn't know."

There was a moment of silence as they looked into each other's eyes.

"I cannot fault you for not knowing, Elizabeth." Then his voice became sterner: "But I can fault you for not _wanting _to know, for not even giving me a chance to explain the truth."

"I... I am sorry, William," She pressed herself against him, wrapping her arms around his waist. But he pushed her softly away.

"You are tired, Lizzy. Why don't you sleep here for tonight? I'll leave now and you can stay in this suite. You have just heard a lot of new information, and you need some rest. Come on now, go lie down."

He then led her to the bed, placed a barely perceptible kiss on her forehead, and walked towards the door.

Elizabeth felt suddenly empty and alone, missing his presence. "William, won't you stay? After everything you told me... I... I think I need to talk to you..."

He shook his head ruefully. "I think you have said quite enough for one night, madam." And he closed the door.

With a heavy sigh, Lizzy lay down on the pillow. It smelled distinctly of him. And as she drifted to sleep, she murmured softly, reverently, wistfully: "William..."


	27. Chapter 27

How was it that she had just had the most tender, beautiful, and satisfying dream of her life, and the star of that dream was none other than Fitzwilliam Darcy? And why was it that upon waking up she felt so bereft and alone, looking around anxiously, almost feverishly, searching for him, and feeling so terribly lost when he was nowhere in sight? Why was it that she was _missing _Fitzwilliam Darcy and yearning for his company?

Such were Elizabeth's worries when she woke up in a bed that smelled deliciously of a certain handsome gentleman. She tossed and turned in his covers, and hugged tightly his feather-filled cushion. She was distressed to find just how much her opinion of Mr. Darcy had changed since the night before. She attempted to calm herself down and to think things through rationally. But she failed miserably; all she could do was feel a terrible longing for him. Elizabeth was beyond incensed at herself for such weakness and silliness.

She at last forced herself to look back on the night before with a somewhat objective eye. She relived the pleasant evening at the bakery and later at the salsa club; then Charlotte's disappearance; then the discovery of her friend with Richard Fitzwilliam, in the nude; then William's thoughtful invite to wither the storm in his suite. Well, thoughtful for his own benefit as much as hers, Lizzy snickered.

_'Good, at least I've retained my sense of humor,'_ she then noted, half-relieved half-sardonic.

Next was William nervously asking her out. He had been so sweet about it! Too bad Lizzy had failed to notice, for as soon as Greg's name was mentioned, she recalled that she was already taken. Right, that's the thing: there was a brief moment, while William was declaring his undying love to her for the umpteenth time, when she was so immersed in him and in her own butterflies-in-the-stomach feelings, that she had completely forgotten that she already had a boyfriend. And it was perhaps anger at her own self for such carelessness that spurned her to reproach Mr. Darcy. It was not _his _fault that he asked out a taken woman; that woman, after all, had completely forgotten that she was taken herself. Had she not welcomed Mr. Darcy's kisses, caresses, massages? Indeed, the only thing where Mr. Darcy went wrong was his arrogant insinuation that he was somehow better than Greg. But was that little mistake really worth all the wrath she unleashed onto him?

Lizzy cringed as she recalled all the accusations she had hurled at Fitzwilliam. And her shame deepened as she remembered the way he stoically defended himself against each of them. How terribly she had misjudged him! How could she have allowed herself to form such horrid opinions of a man without attempting at first to investigate the truth of the matter? And this was not any man! No, it was a man who had professed his fervent love for her, and who had steadfastly continued to court her. He had treated her with nothing but love, kindness, and generosity, cleaning her house and rejoicing in every little moment together that she granted him. He respected her personal space and kept away when she told him to, no matter how much that may have hurt him. He worshiped her no matter how abominably she behaved towards him. And she behaved badly enough!

But what if now he had had enough? What if now that she realized how wrong she had been, now that she was beginning to have feelings for him – what if now he would rather have nothing more to do with her? That thought hurt Lizzy more than she would have liked to admit, so she quickly banished it from her head. Instead, she jumped off the bed, gently fixed her hair, and rushed out of his suite and towards hers.

Just as she stepped out of the elevator on her floor, she ran straight into Charlotte.

"Good morning, Lizzy!" Liz vaguely noted that she had never heard Charlotte sound so chipper before.

"Good morning to you," Lizzy grumbled in response.

"Why so grumpy, my dear?" Charlotte asked, as if she was completely unaware of the spectacle she had subjected her friend to only the night before.

"I'd love to see how grumpy _you _would be after walking in on your best friend having sex!" Lizzy mumbled.

Charlotte simply laughed. "Oh that. Sorry. I didn't realize I'd scare you off for the entire night. Where did you go anyway?"

"William's suite," Lizzy answered very quietly. But Charlotte heard her anyway.

"Oh my God! Seriously? Ha! So I wasn't the only one going at it with a Fitzwilliam cousin last night! I can't believe you finally gave in to him! I mean, it was obvious all along, but you were being so stubborn." She drew a quick breath, but Lizzy was too stunned to take the opportunity to interject. "I'm so glad, Lizzy! It's about time! Well… come, you must tell me everything! How was it?"

"How was what, Charlotte?" Liz was still dumbfounded, but she was beginning to grow skeptical.

"Oh, don't be dense! Do I have to say it? Fine: how was your mind-blowing sex with Fitzwilliam Darcy, my darling?"

"Um, Charlotte… I didn't sleep with William."

Now it was Charlotte's turn to be stunned. "You... you just said you had spent the night in his suite."

"Yes. And he wasn't there." Lizzy was surprised by how annoyed her own voice was sounding.

Charlotte lifted one eyebrow in question. "Um... what?"

"You heard me. I slept in William's suite alone, ok?"

"Ok, ok," Charlotte waived her hands defensively. "But why?"

Lizzy looked down sheepishly. "We argued."

"Oh my God! What on earth did you do this time, Lizzy Bennet?"

"Nothing much," Lizzy winced. "Aside from accusing him of preposterous deeds that he didn't commit." Seeing Charlotte's bemused smirk, she hurried to add: "Look, I know I've been wrong, ok? Can we please just stop talking about it? I feel terrible as it is."

Charlotte smiled. "Sure thing. Lets go get some breakfast."

Lizzy readily agreed. As they got back into the elevator, she suddenly remembered that in her preoccupation with William she had completely neglected to properly quiz her friend about her newfound love life. "So where's Richard?"

Charlotte waived her right hand dismissively. "Oh, he said he had to get back to the de Bourgh house to pick up his things this morning. I think he'll be moving into the hotel now. Apparently, Darcy had advised that all along, but Richard was being diplomatic and tried placating his aunt by staying with her. But now he realized that here's where all the fun is at."

"Cool. So are you two now officially an item?" Lizzy gave her friend a suggestive wink.

Charlotte's features darkened marginally, but she schooled them right back into a smile. "I don't really know, Liz, to tell you the truth. I mean, last night was amazing, and I really feel like this is something exciting, maybe even special. But it's so quick, we've only met yesterday. I don't really know where we're at, and where we're going. We haven't really had time to talk things through yet."

"I understand," Lizzy nodded encouragingly. "But I'm sure he thinks you're very special too, and I hope the two of you work things out. I can certainly see the chemistry between the two of you." She smiled.

Charlotte laughed. "Well, Lizzy dear, I could see the chemistry between Fitzwilliam Darcy and you a long white ago, yet look how long it has taken you to work things out. At least now you finally got it."

Lizzy frowned. "Yes, but... well, I'm just not sure if he still wants to try and work things out. I mean, I've been pretty horrible, Charlotte."

Charlotte smiled at her friend's uncertainty and wistfulness. She hated to see Lizzy in pain, but this was healthy. It was about time Liz fell in love and there was no one better than Fitzwilliam to be her chosen one. Besides, even though Lizzy seemed to now doubt his affections, Charlotte knew better. There was no way in hell that man could ever get over Elizabeth Bennet.

"Don't worry," Charlotte gently patted Liz's upper arm. "Just talk to him. I'm sure he can forgive you."

"I hope so." Lizzy's lips curled into a small, uncertain smile.

As the girls were passing the reception desk on their way out of the hotel, the receptionist called out sweetly: "Miss Bennet, Miss Lucas! Mr. Darcy asked me to let you know that a table has been set for you in the dining parlor, if you care to join him for breakfast."

Lizzy's heartbeat increased instantly upon hearing that name. She would see him again! She did not know quite how to react. She had never felt such apprehension and anticipation at seeing someone before.

Charlotte smiled and nudged her friend towards the hotel's luxurious restaurant.

As soon as they entered the parlor, they spotted the notorious man seated at a beautifully set table. Fitzwilliam smiled broadly when the two girls came in, and it was virtually impossible to discern in his handsome features all the anxiety he was feeling. He had been deeply perturbed by the conversation the night before and had subsequently spent a nearly sleepless night at one of his hotel's extra quites, and now, upon seeing his goddess again, he was at once excited and apprehensive, not knowing what to expect, not fully certain of where they stood. Even his own feelings were conflicted: he loved her still, and wanted nothing more than to beg her yet again to be his girlfriend, yet he had also been upset at her, almost angry, and felt some degree of entitlement... to what, he knew not.

He stood gallantly from his chair, and greeted his two companions. "Good morning, ladies," he said smoothly.

"Good morning, Mr. Darcy," Charlotte smiled.

"G-good morning, William," Lizzy mumbled quietly, almost shyly. He noticed a light blush on her cheeks, and thought how very well it became her. How he wished to reach out and caress those beautiful rosy cheeks!

An hour of breakfast passed awkwardly and fairly quietly. Whatever conversation was had, consisted mostly of idle chatter between Charlotte and William. Liz remained predominantly silent, feeling all the awkwardness between them and wishing desperately to diffuse it somehow.

Once the meal was finished, William asked his companions whether they would like to join him on a stroll along the beach. Lizzy, who wanted very much to prolong her time in his company, consented immediately. Charlotte, with a sly half-smile, excused herself, saying that she had some phone calls to make, and that she would join the pair for lunch.

And so it was that the unconventional couple set out on a leisurely promenade along the beautiful beach by themselves. They walked in awkward silence for a few minutes, each unsure of how to begin, until Lizzy suddenly began to speak.

"William, I'm sorry. About last night, and about before. I should never have accused you so strongly without at first endeavoring to discover the truth. I was blinded by prejudice, and plainly – silly. Please, please forgive me."

She them looked up into his face, and he saw such earnestness, such feeling in her beautiful hazel eyes, that he could barely refrain from sweeping her petite form into his arms and expressing all his ardor, all his happiness through a passionate kiss. Instead, he drew a breath to calm his raging emotions, and replied steadily:

"I have already forgiven you, Elizabeth. To be honest, my behavior has been far from perfect too. I had given you plenty of reason to be prejudiced against me years ago, and even last night, you were completely correct in chastising me for my condescending, inappropriate attitude towards your b – ...towards Greg. I made it plentifully easy for you to think badly of me."

"Please, William, do not attempt to take the blame onto yourself!" Liz exclaimed passionately. "You have atoned enough for what you have done in the past. Now allow me to apologize for my own faults." Again, she gave him a dazzling smile. They had just reached a large, flat rock along the sandy beach, and seated themselves comfortably on top of it.

He softly, tentatively took her hand in his. She did not withdraw it; instead, she gently squeezed his thumb with her little fingers. "Elizabeth... You really oughtn't apologize. Come, after all it is no secret that I could never be truly mad at you. You have all the advantage: I am completely in love."

"You're perfect..." She whispered so softly, that he wondered whether she really meant to say it aloud.

His heart skipped a beat at her words and the loving wistfulness in them. And so very tentatively, he proceeded: "You are too generous to trifle with me, Lizzy. If your answer is the same as it was last night, please tell me so at once, and I will do my best to leave you at peace. My own wishes and affections remain unchanged. I would like to know whether there is any hope that you might one day view me as more than a friend."

He held his breath as he waited for her answer. Here it was: out in the open, yet again. He had lost count of how many time he had professed his love to her, of all the occasions on which he offered his heart, his wealth, his entire being to her on a silver platter, only to have it thrown right back at him. Yet somehow, this time felt more right than all of the previous ones. This time, he had this indescribable, monumental feeling, as if something very important was about to occur. And this time they were not arguing; they were apologizing, both of them, and she was being so very tender towards him.

Lizzy lifted her eyes at the man next to her, saw all the love and longing in his gaze, and marveled at his willingness to humble himself yet again by asking out a woman who had so unceremoniously rejected him time and time again. She felt an unprecedented surge of affection – almost love! - towards him. With a most brilliant smile, she flung her arms around him, embracing him hungrily. "Yes! Yes, William, yes!"

When she at last drew herself sufficiently away to look at his handsome face once more, she noticed with pleasure how much the expression of heartfelt delight became him. Indeed, Fitzwilliam Darcy was in heaven. He had never wanted something as much as he wanted this woman, and consequently had never been as happy as he was now, upon hearing her resounding 'yes'. It was almost unbelievable that this 'yes' had really come. But it was true: she was smiling at him so very tenderly.

He then rose from his seat and knelt before her, taking her small hands into his, and kissing them warmly. "Elizabeth, Elizabeth," he murmured as his paid his tribute to each and every one of her delicate fingers. He then exhaled a passionate "Thank you!" and laid his head comfortably in her lap. This was pure bliss...

...Until Lizzy was suddenly brought back to earth, and took him right down with her. "William, I am not quite single yet, though. You know, I can't... well, I can't... date you. While I'm still with Greg, that is."

He lifted his head and searched her face, not quite fully understanding what she was saying. But the alarm in his eyes made her shiver. "I'm not the kind of girl who would go out with two men at once, William," she assured him seriously.

"But... I thought..." He mumbled incoherently, feeling the searing pain as his paradise was quickly falling apart. "Didn't you just say yes?"

"Oh, I did, I did! And I do! But I can't start dating you until I stop seeing Greg," she clarified.

"D-do you intend to break up with him?"

She nodded.

"Straight away?" A smile was creeping back to the corners of his lips as he was beginning to grow hopeful again.

Lizzy hesitated. "Well, yes. I mean, as soon as I get back to Alabama. I... I'd rather not do it over email. I mean, I haven't even call him from here. And he hasn't heard from me since I left. It wouldn't do to just dump the knowledge onto him. I'd like to talk to him." She was looking into William's eyes apologetically, hoping he would understand. And inwardly wishing she had never gotten into another relationship after this man began paying his prodigious attentions to her. After all, in hindsight, it was clear that she was meant to end up with him all along. The most persistent suitor always won. Especially when he also happened to be the most charming and gorgeous. Lizzy smiled as she mentally remarked on the absolutely perfect body of the man kneeling before her.

"I don't understand. I have just won you over, Lizzy. Surely, you don't except me to pretend like we're still mere acquaintances for the rest of our week here in Cancun? I mean, I kissed you last night, and you loved it! I know you did, don't even try to deny it, I felt the way you responded to me!"

"Oh yes," she breathed out dreamily. "I did love it, William."

"Well then? Surely, you wouldn't keep us apart while we're here?"

Lizzy thought for a moment. Then she tenderly caressed his cheek. "No, I don't think I could." She smiled. "Perhaps we could date, take things slowly? I don't think I could possibly resist your kisses, William, but maybe we could stop at that, at least until I break up with Greg? I mean... Oh my God, I didn't mean to imply that there was any possibility of us going further straight away, or that it was okay to make out with another man while still having an official boyfriend, but you're damn irresistible, Fitzwilliam Darcy, and I don't even know what I'm saying anymore!" She drew a deep breath. "Wow, that was one super-ramble."

Fitzwilliam smiled at her rambling incoherence. "I rather liked it. You're so cute when you let go, Lizzy. And I agree completely with your condition. I've suffered painful celibacy in your proximity for a while now, I think I can do one more week. Right now, my beautiful darling, kissing you is enough of a taste of heaven. It is, after all, an infinite improvement from before."

And with that, he stood up, swept her easily into his arms, and captured her lips in a fervent kiss as he pressed her body tightly against his. She responded immediately and gave herself fully to the gorgeous man who had just quite literally swept her off her feet. She had never experienced anything as sweet and exquisite as this kiss. And it was only a preview of all the things to come: life with Fitzwilliam Darcy could be absolutely amazing, she cheerfully realized, for this man adored her so fully and belonged to her so completely.

As to William, the kiss encompassed all he had wished and desired for the past month. And it was more: it was an assurance, a promise of sorts of the future. It would be impossible to put into words just how happy he was. Elizabeth Bennet had finally agreed to make him hers. And she was well on her way to becoming his in return. He was not naïve and knew that she could not yet love him as he loved her, and perhaps she never would – he was not quite sure it was _possible _for another such love to exist as the one that lived in his chest. But he was hopeful that he would one day fully win her heart. Yes, soon enough, Fitzwilliam Darcy would have his Elizabeth Bennet.


	28. Chapter 28

Lizzy looked out the window at the beautiful sunset, and sighed contently. She pulled her legs up under herself, and snuggled up, pressing the cup of warm cocoa tightly between her hands. Her eyes then wondered from the pink and orange sky to the equally gorgeous man who was approaching her with two plates of delectable looking Pane Cotta in his hands and a wide grin on his face.

"William, dinner has been absolutely delicious. Thanks," Lizzy gave him a warm smile.

"You're very welcome, my darling" he smiled in return, gracefully seating himself on the couch next to her. Lizzy gratefully took one of the plates from his hands, and Fitzwilliam immediately wrapped his newly free arm around her shoulders. "I only wish it was me who merited your praise and not the downstairs cook."

Liz laughed. "Well, you're the one who fed me, so you get the credit."

William turned serious. "But I would have loved to cook for you myself. How I wish I had thought of getting a kitchen installed in here! But I never needed one until now. Yet now that I have a wonderful woman to spoil, I wish I had the space to make her something special."

Lizzy lifted an eyebrow at him in question. "If you have never cooked for yourself, what makes you think that you can cook for me? I wouldn't want to be poisoned by you!" She teased.

"My mother taught me to cook as a child," he hurried to explain. "Even though we officially had a cook, she absolutely loved to unwind in the kitchen. And I really loved her, so I tried spend time with her as much as I could. I'm very glad I did, in retrospect." His eyes grew distant and cloudy as he said the last sentence.

Lizzy squeezed his arm tenderly, willing the painful recollections, the insatiable longing, to leave his mind. "You must have been a wonderful son," she said softly, and leaned in to plant a light kiss on his beautiful lips.

The touch of her lips brightened his mood instantaneously, and he pressed her tightly against him, capturing her lips in a more passionate kiss, deepening it slowly, and relishing in the lovely feel of her warm mouth, a tinge of pane cotta mixing with her own sweet taste.

It was some time before Lizzy withdrew herself softly, ending the kiss. She was panting and breathless, not for the first time that day. Ever since she and Fitzwilliam had resolved their issues and agreed to a tentative relationship – placed on a hold of sorts temporarily until she could break things off with Greg, yet with the promise of a blossoming future – Mr. Darcy had seized the opportunity to finally do what he had been yearning for. He kissed Lizzy often and fervently. And every kiss left her breathless yet wishing for more. The sensations he awakened in her were so surprising that Lizzy would have found them troublesome had they not been oh so terribly amazing.

"You know, I will treat you to a homemade dinner as soon as we return to Meryton," Fitzwilliam stated decidedly, and claimed Lizzy's lips for another kiss. Shorter, but just as ardent as the last.

"And I shall also deliver on my other promises: foam baths," Lizzy's lips had barely recovered from the previous assault before he captured them again with his, this time softly, lovingly, "and messages," another kiss, "and breakfast in bed."

As he finished his list, Lizzy's mouth opened slightly, anticipating another sweet kiss from the irresistible man before her. But he was taking his time. Instead, he cupped her cheek, and looked into her eyes, willing her to see the full depth of affection engraved in his gaze. "I love you, Elizabeth," he whispered reverently, and lowered his lips to her for a long, gentle, adoring connection.

When they at last separated, she placed her head softly on his shoulder, and let out a perfectly content sigh. Her mood was light and cheerful, and she could not help but tease her perfect partner a little.

"Hm, I'm not sure about foam baths, my darling. Wouldn't that make it difficult to keep our no-sex agreement? And now that I think about it, breakfast in bed is a bit problematic too: what would happen to not sleeping together?"

Fitzwilliam growled in annoyance. "Don't remind me. I hate to think of you as still being Greg's girlfriend." He took her face in his hands, and demanded urgently: "Promise me that you will break it off to him first thing as soon as we get back!"

Lizzy chuckled. "I will."

"And in the meantime, I will fulfill one promise a day. Tomorrow you will have a back massage, the day after – I will take care of your feet. Then Tuesday you will be getting breakfast in bed from me no matter _where _you sleep. Wednesday I will contrive to cook you dinner."

"And the rest? I'm afraid you haven't made enough promises! We don't leave until Saturday." Lizzy teased, laughing.

Fitzwilliam gave her a playful growl. "Don't you worry, young lady. I can make them yet! Here you go: I shall make your bed on Thursday, write you a poem on Friday, and help you pack on Saturday. And as soon as you are officially mine, my dear, you will be receiving all of those services every day of your life." At this, he lifted his chin triumphantly.

Lizzy could hardly stop laughing. "Oh God, Will, what a fright! Am I never to be allowed to make the bed or grab my own breakfast? And it would be quite daunting having you preside over me every time I pack a valise!"

"Very well," he replied good humoredly, "I will amend my statement. Instead of every day, let it be _on demand_."

"Mmm, lovely." Lizzy rewarded him with a quick peck on the lips.

That only spurned him on. "Of course, it goes without saying that you'll be taken out on a most exciting date… Every. Single. Day." The last three words were punctuated by quick but forceful kisses.

By the end of the exchange, both were laughing brilliantly, wrapped up in each other's arms.

Lizzy was amazed at how light and easy things were between them. Their conversations, teasing, and joking were just as simple and _pleasant_ as her interactions with Greg. Yet their touches, kisses, and Will's scorching gaze were quite different. There was an intensity in their relationship that was lacking in her quick affair with Greg, and, she had to admit, in all of her previous liaisons. She could see it clearly now: life with Will could be simultaneously safe and pleasant, and passionate and exciting. They had only reached an understanding that morning, yet already she could no longer pretend that she was indifferent towards him. Far from it, she was experiencing an intensity of feelings she had not previously known. It both thrilled and terrified her at once.

Fitzwilliam too marveled at the ease and smoothness of their time together. Indeed, it was incredible that weeks of anguish, longing, and frustration could come to such an abrupt end only to be replaced with perfect bliss. Here was his Elizabeth, the woman he had been chasing with no success for weeks, the woman whom he loved ardently yet who had appeared to scorn him at every opportunity – and she was hugging, kissing, nuzzling him. She was joking and laughing _with _him. She was smiling _at _him. She appeared to be perfectly at ease with him, and fully willing to pursue their relationship further.

They spent several minutes in companionable silence, both contemplation the drastic changes that had occurred in their relations in the past twenty-four hours. At last, Lizzy reluctantly said:

"I have not spoken to Charlotte since we left her for our walk this morning. I believe she was calling me earlier, but I did not want to interrupt our dinner. Do you mind if I call her back?"

William smiled, hiding his disappointment at having Elizabeth leave his arms. "Not at all. I feel bad for stealing you away from her like that."

Several minutes later, Lizzy stepped back into the room, skipped over to the couch, and placed herself playfully on William's lap. He had to make a conscious effort to suppress the moan that threatened to escape his throat as her thighs came in contact with his, too dangerously close to the place were he most desired her. The woman was a vixen: surely, she had to be aware of what she was doing to him – the sly smile that played across her lips told him as much.

"There's some 80's concert in town tonight. Charlotte and Richard want to go, and they're wondering if we'd care to join."

"I'll go wherever you want," Fitzwilliam replied earnestly.

"Well, lets go with them then! We'll have plenty of time to ourselves over the next few days." She gave him a peck on the cheek (that tease!), smiled radiantly, and flew off his lap. "I'll see you in half an hour, handsome. Got to get dressed."

And before he even had a chance to open his mouth, she had left the room. The woman had far too much energy sometimes. And he loved her for it.

A little more than half an hour later, they met again at the elevator bank next to her suite. She came out with Charlotte, looking as radiant as ever in a short leather skirt, knee-length boots, and a tight-fitting t-shirt. Next to her, his casual attire of jeans and a short-sleeved polo was nowhere near funky enough.

Charlotte gave him a wide smile when they exchanged greetings, and as they began walking, she leaned in close to his ear, and whispered sincerely: "I'm so happy you two worked things out, Will!" It was the first time she called him Will as opposed to the usual Mr. Darcy – she did work for him after all. And he found that he really liked it – he, who was usually so uptight and hierarchical. Lizzy's bright personality was doing wonders to his pompous and disgruntled one.

Richard joined the group downstairs, and they shared a cab to the club. It was remarkable how naturally the four of them interacted. It was even easier, lighter now that Will and Lizzy were together. They were now two couples, but also a pair of best friends and a pair of cousins. They all got along splendidly, and complemented each other.

The first thought in Fitzwilliam's mind when they arrived at the club was _'Oh God, it's so loud!_'. He was not typically fond of loud, trashy music or of large crowds, and would have much preferred to spend his time with Lizzy somewhere quieter and more secluded. He loved the thought of dancing with her, but until now they had only shared a tango and a salsa. Partner dances. And this club was certainly no place for those. He could not imagine enjoying a dance that consisted of jumping up and down to loud, obnoxious beats to be even a tenth as enjoyable as pressing Lizzy's lovely body to himself in a sensual tango.

Some ten minutes later, he realized that he had been completely wrong.

The way Lizzy swayed her hips and shook her booty while jumping to the music, the way she rubbed her sumptuous behind against his aching need, was surely the most arousing experience of his life. Fitzwilliam Darcy, ever the snob, was most certainly _enjoying _80's dancing for the first time in his life.

He chanced to glance over at his cousin and noticed that Richard sported almost as wide a grin as himself. He was dancing with Charlotte, and they appeared to be in their own little bubble, consumed by each other's movement. Fitzwilliam smiled. Charlotte was a good girl, and he was happy for his cousin.

His thoughts were interrupted when Lizzy moved to the beat and ground her behind into his groin. He could not suppress the groan that escaped his throat, and caught her shoulders with his arms.

"You, Miss Bennet, will drive me completely insane. You cannot deny me intercourse and then rub against me in such a manner! Such teasing must be illegal."

Lizzy simply laughed, and replied with mock-indignation: "Well, maybe if you danced a little yourself, rather than just stand behind me like a rock, it wouldn't be so bad."

Unable to find a witty comeback, he simply swung her around and planted a passionate kiss on her lips.

It was at that point that they heard a loud commotion, and the next thing they knew, they were at the center of an especially dense crowd, with bright flashes and cries of "Mr. Darcy!" all around them.

William groaned, this time in frustration. "Damn it! They found us."

With that, he unceremoniously grabbed Lizzy's hand, and led her out of the club, ignoring the numerous questions thrown at him from all around. Richard caught on immediately, and followed the couple with Charlotte.

Once safely seated in Mr. Darcy's car and headed back to the hotel – albeit with a following of several paparazzi-filled cars – Mr. Darcy looked at Liz apologetically.

"I am so sorry, darling. I'm afraid that's the unfortunate side-effect of being with me. I hope it has not distressed you too much!"

Lizzy gave him a reassuring smile. "Not at all. Your response was so quick, that I barely knew what was going on."

He sighed. "It gets quite annoying after a while – all this attention. Of course, I'd never have the slightest problem with our relationship being publicized to the entire world. I'd like nothing more than for everyone to know you are finally mine," here he gave her a sexy smirk. "But it worries me that they might follow you around now. I'd hate to cause such a curse upon you."

Again, she reassured him that it was quite alright, and they drove the rest of the way in silence. Back at the hotel, they separated with a gentle kiss, and immediately withdrew to bed. It had been a _very _eventful day, to be sure.


	29. Chapter 29

The next morning it seemed like every publication in the nation had caught on camera Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy's kiss with Miss Elizabeth Bennet in a shady nightclub. Their image was plastered on the front cover of every imaginable newspaper and magazine. Picking up copies of a few such publications, Mr. Darcy frowned deeply.

If seemed that every gossip rag had printed the same story - they were at least consistent, he had to give them that, as if they had all conspired against him. And that story was far from pleasing to him. He took another look through the article in _People _as a representative:

_"Is Mr. Darcy Just Having Fun, or is He Falling Prey to a Gold Digger?_

_Last night Fitzwilliam Darcy, billionaire and America's most eligible bachelor, has been spotted dancing the night away at the Tequila Sunrise nightclub in Cancun. What's more, we have caught on camera his passionate kiss with an obscure young woman. Ever the ladies' favorite, is Mr. Darcy back to his playboy ways? Now that he has completed his stellar IPO and has more time for his women, we certainly hope his recent reclusive tendencies have come to an end. And it sure looks like it! Mr. Darcy is done working hard, and is back out to play hard instead._

_After an exhaustive investigation, __People__ reporters have identified the recipient of last night's sexy kiss as Elizabeth Bennet from New York City. Elizabeth grew up in Meryton, where she has been pursuing the wealthy Fitzwilliam Darcy since her early teen years, but with limited success. Elizabeth is mostly unknown in both New York and Meryton, except by her family and close friends. She is eight years younger than Fitzwilliam Darcy, and is certainly not one of the lucky girls whom he dated during his high school years. So how is it that we find her in the arms of the sexy Mr. Darcy? How did they come to meet in Cancun? Is it simply chance, - or Miss Bennet's cunning?_

_'Eliza Bennet has been chasing after William for weeks, and possibly longer. She's a ruthless thing, completely oblivious to all propriety. A vicious little whore. I wouldn't be surprised if she flew to Cancun only to try and catch Will there,' says Caroline Bingley, Fitzwilliam Darcy's close friend and a wealthy Boston socialite. _

_Caroline's conjecture is supported by Mr. Darcy's aunt, Catherine de Bourgh, whose impression of Miss Bennet is by no means favorable. _

_'The most discourteous girl I've ever seen!' Says Mrs. De Bourgh's of the young Miss Bennet. 'That little trollop seems to think that she can lure my nephew away with her arts and allurements. Everyone should know that Will's engaged to my Anne, and the very idea of him with someone as far beneath us as Elizabeth Bennet is absolutely absurd. No, the headquarters of Pemberley shall not be thus polluted!'_

_Fortunately, a quick check of the records indicates that Mr. Darcy is not actually engaged to Anne de Bourgh. Still, it is obvious that most of Darcy's friends and relatives view Elizabeth Bennet to be unfit for him. _

_More light has been shed on Eliza Bennet's identity and character by Colin Smith, assistant manager at Rosings Park, the Cancun hotel where she has been staying with a childhood friend this past week. _

_'Eliza is a nasty piece of work,' Colin tells us bluntly. 'I have never seen a more obvious fortune hunter. She was after me, you know, until she thought she could get Mr. Darcy. As soon as she saw him in Cancun, she dug her claws straight into him, and shunned me! I've never been led on by a woman so deceptively before!'_

_So could it be that the sizzling Fitzwilliam has fallen prey to a ruthless gold digger? Fortunately, it does not seem likely that the relationship runs any deeper than the casual kiss we saw yesterday._

_'Will's been working a lot lately,' says Darcy's close friend, Charles Bingley. 'He hasn't been out at all. I was very glad that he took that trip to Cancun. At least he will be able to relax a little.'_

_When asked about Mr. Darcy's romantic relations, Charles said that he would be delighted if his friend found someone. Apparently, Mr. Darcy has been pining after some mystery woman for several weeks, and Charles hopes that he would soon get over her. Ever the discrete and loyal friend, Charles refused to disclose the woman's identity._

_With Mr. Darcy supposedly pining after someone else, it hardly seems possible that his attraction to Miss Bennet is serious. She may well be a slutty gold digger setting her sights on the Pemberley fortune, but then she is in for a big disappointment. Most likely, to Fitzwilliam she was no more than a passing fling at a nightclub. Perhaps even one of several that night… _

_So don't worry, ladies: Fitzwilliam Darcy is safe. And the exciting news is that even an obscure, average girl like Elizabeth Bennet was able to get a kiss from the scorching hot Mr. Darcy. And who knows who that lucky girl will be tomorrow night?"_

Darcy growled in frustration. He had become used to being discussed in gossip rags by now, and hardly cared about their outlandish conjectures and outright lies. But to see Elizabeth's name thus besmirched was not something he could easily tolerate.

_'A vicious little whore… That little trollop… Far beneath us…Nasty piece of work… Obvious fortune hunter… Slutty gold digger… Passing fling at a nightclub… Obscure and average…' _The names jumped out at him form the pages, taunting him with the callous insults thrown at Elizabeth. _His _Elizabeth.

Angrily crumbling the papers in his fists, William stood up and began pacing the room. He was boiling over with anger: at Caroline Bingley, at his aunt, and at Colin Smith for their bitter and offensive statements about Elizabeth. And at the numerous reporters for not only quoting those statements, but also openly agreeing with them, portraying his Lizzy as nothing more than an average girl chasing after his money with pathetically little success. When in reality she was _so, so _much more! It was he who had chased her for weeks, and who was now the luckiest man in the world to even have a chance with her. A chance that could easily be ruined by this indiscrete gossip.

Darcy paled at that last thought. He had been too preoccupied with his concerns for Elizabeth's reputation to think about this other potential consequence. But now that he thought about it, he found it increasingly plausible that Elizabeth, upon reading such slander about herself, would decide that he was not worth it. And who could blame her? She had only just agreed to forgive him all his past misdeeds and grant him the immense privilege of holding and kissing her, along with a promise of one day being able to call her his girlfriend. And the first thing he gives her in return is a bad name, vicious slander in every national publication. He would not be surprised if she decided never to see him again after such a fiasco.

Suddenly panicked, William felt an overwhelming need to speak to Elizabeth immediately, beg her forgiveness for all this mess, and entreat her not to leave him. He glanced at the clock: it was 9:30AM; she was likely already awake.

In a worried frenzy, he rushed to her suite. Calming himself enough to breath semi-evenly, he knocked on her door, and closed his eyes, bracing himself for the worst.

A minute passed in nervous anticipation, before a sleepy, disheveled Elizabeth opened the door.

"Will?" She asked sleepily, still wiping her eyes with her fists. William found that to be the most adorable sight he had ever seen, and wished desperately to take her into his arms and cuddle her soft sleepy form. But he steadied himself: she had not given any indication that she still wanted him.

"What are you doing here so early?" She asked after a few seconds of silence, and awkwardly wrapped her sleepy arms around his neck, drawing him in for a lethargic kiss.

William's heartbeat increased with excitement when she kissed him, and all his anxiety momentarily disappeared… until he realized that, having barely woken up, Lizzy had not yet been able to read the morning news. He felt instantly cold as he understood that her kiss was not a sign of acceptance, but merely a result of her ignorance of what evil being with him had caused her.

She was looking up at him expectantly, and he realized he had not answered her question. "Lizzy, I need to talk to you," he said a bit too sternly.

Her expression immediately turned confused and worried. "Sure, Will, what is the matter?"

He made a move towards the inside of the suite, and she released his neck, drawing herself awkwardly away.

"Um, right, sure, please come in," she mumbled, confused. William was looking so stern and upset, that she hardly knew what to think. Had she somehow offended him the previous night? Did he not enjoy their time out at the club? Did he want to abruptly break off what had seemed so magical to her just yesterday? With horror, Lizzy realized just how much that thought terrified her.

William walked into the room, and silently seated himself on the sofa. He was feeling awfully tense from his anxiety, hardly knowing if he was strong enough to sit and watch Lizzy's shock and disappointment as she read the morning news.

"Have you seen the news this morning?" He began without preamble.

Lizzy weakly shook her head. This was sounding increasingly not good. What had happened?

"Do you have any papers delivered here?" William asked, his heartbeat intensifying.

"No," she answered softly.

"You should ring room service and ask for some," he said quietly, seriously, turning his head so as to avert his gaze from her lovely form. She was looking so awfully beautiful in her nightshirt, with those soft curls falling down onto her shoulders in disarray, that he wanted nothing more than to throw himself at her feet and embrace her exquisite figure. But he was purposefully keeping away, so that when she rejects him after reading the insults that had been printed about her, it would not be quite so impossibly difficult to obey her wishes and leave her side.

Lizzy was nearly trembling by now. This cold demeanor was so uncharacteristic of William! Something was clearly wrong, yet for the life of her she could not figure out what she had done to merit such silent censure. She yearned with all her being to ask him what on earth was the matter, to scream and shout until she got an answer and put an end to this frustrating uncertainty. Yet she remained quiet. Wordlessly obeying his request, she rung and asked for that morning's papers, and then continued to watch him with silent apprehension.

They sat in silence, he steadfastly looking anywhere but at her, and she watching him fearfully, until a maid arrived with the papers. William curtly ordered her to deposit them on the coffee table, then finally ventured a look at Lizzy:

"Take a look," he said simply, motioning to the pile of papers. As she bent down towards them, he pierced her with an intense look of longing, silently begging her not to leave him after what she was about to see.

With trembling hands, she reached for the top paper, and gasped as soon as her eyes fell on the front page. Right there was a picture of her, in a passionate embrace with William that would have brought a smile onto her face if she had not been so terribly scared and upset.

Now she understood what had troubled Mr. Darcy. He was upset at being thus caught on camera with her. As she skimmed through the article, she reddened at what she read about herself. She almost understood Mr. Darcy's embarrassment at being seen with what everyone perceived to be a cunning gold digger. Almost. While she understood his concern for his reputation, in the back of her head she could still hear him tell her, only the night before, that he would not mind announcing their relationship to the entire world, and that he would like nothing more than for everyone to know that she was his.

Apparently, all those sweet words spoken after a day of passion and a night of dancing were no longer true in the harsh morning light. Fitzwilliam Darcy had come to his senses, and, reading the gossip now being spread about him and Lizzy, he now realized how unfit it was for someone like him to be seen with someone like her.

Lizzy wanted to feel resentful towards him for such inconstancy, but all she felt was disappointment. And hurt. She dropped her eyes to the ground, and sadly sank back into her armchair, preparing to hear out his speech – scolding her for such atrocious and indiscrete behavior in public. After all, although he loved her deeply, this had gone too far. He had his reputation to think of. And so on and so forth.

He was staying quiet for far too long, and Lizzy could no longer tolerate his silence. So she spoke first:

"Look, I'm sorry for taking you to that club and causing you all this embarrassment," she said quickly, almost bitterly.

"Excuse me?" He asked, confused. He had hardly had time to process the words she was saying, but they were somehow not adding up to what he had been expecting to hear.

"I apologized for my indiscretion. Isn't that what you wanted to talk about? To scold me for causing you all this public humiliation?" She asked. He remained silent in his confusion, and Lizzy felt a sudden chill as she completely misinterpreted his silence. If he came here sternly saying he needed to talk to her, yet it was not to scold her, then… was he really going to break things off completely before they even had a chance to begin? The thought terrified her.

"You… you…" she stammered. "You don't think it would be prudent to see me anymore," she finished flatly, almost matter-of-factly.

"What?" He nearly shouted as the meaning of her words sank in.

Lizzy startled at the volume and emotion of his outburst, not knowing what to say. They sat quietly for several seconds, looking over each other in utter confusion.

"I don't understand," she mumbled quietly.

"You… you thought that… that I, um, was upset at being seen with you in this way?" He asked incredulously.

"Well," she answered acidly, regaining her composure after witnessing his own discomfiture, "what else am I supposed to think when you come in here looking all stern and angry and throw these papers in my face?"

Instantly, he was kneeling next to her armchair, tentatively taking her hands in his.

"Oh God, Lizzy, how could you even think such a thing? Have I not made it abundantly clear that I adore and worship you with all my being? Could you really believe me so inconstant as to be scared off by a bunch of lies in the papers?" He shook his head, and then lowered it to kiss her fingertips tenderly. "Dearest, loveliest Elizabeth, I was only upset by what you reaction to this gossip might be. I thought… I thought you might not wish to have me when you realize all the ugly slander that I have caused upon you."

In his hurry to comfort Elizabeth, William had momentarily forgotten his own concerns. They now returned in full force, and lifting his loving gaze to her face, he asked uncertainly: "Do you… um, still want me?"

Lizzy laughed at his absurdity. "Silly William, there's no reason why some idle gossip would change my opinion of you!"

"You… you're not upset?" He asked incredulously.

"Well, I can't say that I am _thrilled_ to hear myself called a slut, a gold digger, or an 'average, obscure girl.' But it's not your fault. Being upset at Caroline Bingley, or Colin Smith, or even your aunt, should not make me want to forsake _you._"

With a monumental sigh of relief, William lifted himself from his kneeling position, took Elizabeth into his arms, and twirled her around, while kissing her with all the incredible ardor of a man relieved of an insupportable weight.

When at last he put her back on the ground, the insults she had quoted from the paper came back to the front of his mind, and caused him to tense his jaw in anger. Although his Elizabeth was not mad at him, he was certainly furious with those who dared to cause her such public offense.

Placing one more kiss on her lovely lips, and holding her shoulders firmly yet tenderly in his hands, William calmed himself so as not to impart onto Elizabeth the anger that was boiling inside of him.

"Darling, you have no idea how incredibly happy I am to know that you are willing to have me even when it causes you such awful insults from others. I am truly the luckiest of man to have a chance to be yours. And I would like nothing more than to spend every minute of every day from here on pleasing you in every way and proving to you that I am worth all this trouble." He stroked her cheek softly with his thumb. "But I'm afraid I have some business to attend to first. I will be as quick as I can, for I cannot wait to be back at your side. I love you, Elizabeth," he murmured while kissing her tenderly.

And then he quickly walked out of the door, leaving a completely baffled girl staring intently after him.


	30. Chapter 30

Charlotte was surprised to be woken up by a loud, incredulous shout of "What?" in what appeared to be Mr. Darcy's voice. As she lazily turned in her bed, attempting to fall back asleep, she inadvertently overheard a most unusual conversation between her friend and her suitor.

First Lizzy seemed to think that William was about to leave her, then it turned out that Will was equally frightened by his impression that _she _would leave _him_. And all because of some "gossip and lies in the news."

Charlotte did not even try to understand what was going on between the pair. After all, it was none of her business, and besides, it seemed that the couple was so madly in love that the mere idea of either of them leaving the other so abruptly after what appeared to be a most beautiful and loving day together, was positively absurd. What really captured Charlotte's attention was not so much the silly conversation between the two insecure lovers, as Elizabeth's state of mind.

Charlotte had known Lizzy all her life, since early childhood. And the Lizzy she knew was confident, independent, never afraid to state her opinions, and often forming those opinions a bit too early and too forcefully, giving way to her prejudices. The Lizzy she knew was always in control of herself and the situations she found herself in. The Lizzy she knew never lost her head over a man.

The Lizzy Charlotte always knew was completely different from the Lizzy now sitting in the room next door. This new Lizzy was stammering, terrified that William might no longer wish to be with her. This new Lizzy was soft, and caring, and, Charlotte was amazed to discover this most fitting adjective: _vulnerable_.

A soft smile curved Charlotte's lips as she realized what all of this meant. This new Lizzy was well on her way to falling _in love _with Fitzwilliam Darcy. Lizzy might not yet be aware of it, but Charlotte knew better. She had never seen her friend in love before, but now the signs were obvious.

With a sly smile and a cheerful bounce in her step, Charlotte stepped out of the bedroom as soon as she heard Mr. Darcy depart. His leave was a bit strange and abrupt, but she did not give it much thought.

As she came into the room, she observed Liz absentmindedly watching the door, with a wistful, dreamy expression on her face. The sight of Lizzy so uncharacteristically lovestruck was so strange and unusual, that it sent Charlotte into a fit of giggles.

Charlotte's ringing laughter caught her friend's attention, and Lizzy finally took her mind off of Fitzwilliam's odd departure.

"What is the matter, Charlotte?" Lizzy asked, growing annoyed as she realized that the butt of Charlotte's private joke was none other than herself.

"Oh Liz, you are absolutely adorable!" Charlotte giggled in return, and rushed to embrace her friend.

"I don't understand," Lizzy mumbled grumpily.

"Never mind, then, dear. You're just cute when you are so madly in love."

"Charlotte, I am _not_ –"

"You cannot persuade me otherwise, so perhaps we should just drop this argument before it even starts," Charlotte cut her off matter of factly, and went to make some coffee.

"Where is Richard?" Lizzy asked after several minutes of silence. She had just realized that her friend had slept alone, with no Richard Fitzwilliam in the suite, and no exhibitionist sex to scare Lizzy off.

Charlotte sighed. "After that media fiasco with you and William last night, we both felt pretty exhausted and decided to just go to bed. I'll call him soon and see if he wants to grab lunch. By the way, do you have any plans for today?"

Lizzy shrugged awkwardly. She was still troubled by William's sudden rush out of her suite, and was entirely in the dark about what his plans for the day were. Then she mentally chided herself. It should not matter what _his _plans were. She could still have fun without him. In fact, only a few days before, she would have much _rather_ had fun without him. What had happened to make her so suddenly dependent on this man? Whatever it was, she did not like it.

"I don't know yet," she at last answered Charlotte's question. "Would you like to go surfing?"

Charlotte smiled. "Sounds like a brilliant idea. Let me call Richard, and then we can head out." She purposefully did not say anything further about Darcy, so as not to irritate her friend.

Ten minutes later, Charlotte agreed to meet Richard for lunch, and the girls headed out to the beach.

They spent several hours cheerfully learning to surf, filling the air with their brilliant laughter and playful shrieks. The morning was followed by a long, tranquil lunch out at a beach café with Richard. Lizzy had still not heard from Will, and she was beginning to grow restless. She felt like a third wheel eating with Charlotte and Richard, and she could not help but yearn for William's company. Yet he had not even called her! She was beginning to grow frustrated and angry.

After lunch, the girls returned to their suite. Exhausted from the sun and the filling meal, they simply slumped onto the living room couch, and idly turned on the TV.

They watched the daily news, and some silly pageant show, hardly paying attention to the screen, and almost falling asleep… until right there, on the flat television screen, they saw the man who had been occupying Lizzy's thoughts throughout the morning. Fitzwilliam Darcy was apparently giving a live press conference.

Both girls were suddenly alert, paying close attention to the magnificent man on the screen.

He was in a large, well-lit, glamorous ballroom, surrounded by a hoard of reporters all screaming and crackling over each other. With a single swift, commanding wave of his hand, Fitzwilliam easily silenced them all.

He was clearly in control of the crowd, power emanating from him. And Liz was surprised to find just how much seeing him in such an imposing state excited her and turned her on. Judging by the sharp intake of air she heard from her friend, Lizzy figured that she was not the only one left breathless by Mr. Darcy's magnificent presence. It must have been a part of his universal appeal to the female sex.

Once the last of the reporters quieted down, and all attention was focused on him, Mr. Darcy spoke loudly and clearly:

"Ladies and gentlemen, I have invited you here to clear up some recent misunderstandings in the media, and to give you an opportunity to speak to me directly about some aspects of my personal life, which, although I deeply regret it, seem to have captured the public attention to a degree where I cannot be left alone." He paused briefly. Everyone continued watching him silently, with rapt fascination.

"The matter that I would like to address at today's press conference is my relationship with Miss Elizabeth Bennet. I have been following the press this morning, and was disappointed to see that the portrayal of Miss Bennet, as well as the suppositions about my relations with her, have been _grossly_ misstated."

Another pause, lengthier this time, giving room for interruptions. But there were none. Darcy's cold, regal glare automatically postponed all questions until the allotted time, until hewould explicitly invite them.

"I will jump straight to addressing the subject of my relations with the aforementioned lady, as I believe it would also shed light on her true character, and how very misrepresented it has been in today's news."

Lizzy could not help but draw in a deep breath, apprehensively awaiting William's description of their so-called "relations". What would he say?

"I have met Miss Bennet approximately a year ago at a local party, and she immediately caught my interest," Darcy began. "However, when I asked her to dance, she declined, and left the party. This summer, I had the pleasure of becoming more closely acquainted with the lady, at which point I fell inexorably in love with her," at this point, there was a loud commotion of gasps and sighs in the crowd, "and began to actively pursue her. It was not an easy task, for Miss Bennet rejected me several times, and for good reason. As a child growing up in the same town where I went to high school, she had observed some of my actions, of which I am not proud – in fact, I am thoroughly ashamed of them. And she disapproved. I was not the kind of person back then whom she could love. I was not worthy of her. For all my wealth and social standing, _that was_ _all that mattered to Miss Bennet_." He made sure to stress this point last point, so as to fully dispel the preposterous notion of his Elizabeth being a gold digger. "It was only after I proved to her that I was willing and able to change and to become a better person, that she gave me the immense joy of agreeing to enter into a romantic relationship with me."

Another series of gasps passed through the crowd at this open admission of a serious relationship between the couple. Certainly, when Fitzwilliam Darcy called the entirety of the nation's media in for a press conference, this was not what the reporters expected. They anticipated a fierce denial of any connection to the obscure Miss Bennet – not a free admission of being _in love_ with her!

"So you can see, ladies and gentlemen," Mr. Darcy finished his speech, "that Miss Elizabeth Bennet is as far from a gold digger as she is from being a random hook-up in the club. Instead, she is a fierce, intelligent young woman, self-possessed and full of integrity. And I am thoroughly in love with her." He paused, signifying the end of his revelation. And then asked in a voice that failed to hide his tiredness: "Are there any questions?"

It was as if the spell he had cast over the crowd was lifted then, and they all began speaking at once, creating a loud commotion as great as that at the beginning of the interview.

Again, all it took to revert to silence was a single commanding hand gesture. "One at a time, please," he said flatly, not even bothering to hide his boredom.

Hands shot through the air, and he mechanically picked on one after another.

"When did you begin officially seeing Miss Bennet?"

"Yesterday morning."

"What exactly made her reject you before?"

"I was an inconsiderate, arrogant jerk," he chuckled with this response.

"Do you see yourself marrying Miss Bennet?"

"That is a strange question. We have been together for two days."

"So is she your girlfriend?"

"No, not yet," here he had to frown.

"Why don't you want to call her your girlfriend?"

"I do. It is entirely up to Miss Bennet when she allows me to call her by that name."

"Why hasn't she agreed yet?"

"Because she's still with someone else." The words fell out of his mouth before he had a chance to stop them. "She will break it off next week, though," he added hastily.

"Who is he?"

"I will not answer any questions about those parts of Miss Bennet's private life that do not directly involve me," he answered bitterly. "Any other questions?"

They continued in this vein for another fifteen minutes or so, before the allotted time for the interview ran out.

Lizzy sat still on the couch, pale and barely breathing. The interview had completely taken her by surprise. _'So _this _is the business William had to take care of?' _She was dumbfounded that he would actually do that. It was flattering, of course, that he would be so concerned with her reputation as to put himself out like that. But at the same time, it was worrisome. The speed and ferocity with which he had gone about this somehow terrified her.

"Wow," she heard Charlotte breath out after a minute of silence. "That was certainly something."

Lizzy merely nodded.

"He really loves you, Elizabeth. You must understand how much it means for him to go and declare himself like that to the entire country… all to protect _your _good name."

Again, just a nod.

Collecting herself, Charlotte let out a deep sigh, got off the sofa, and said: "Alright, time to go take a walk. We've been sitting around for far too long. You wanna come?"

Lizzy was too lost in her own thoughts and emotions to give any more of a response than a nondescript movement of her head, something halfway between a nod and a shake. Charlotte smiled slyly, and left the suite alone, giving her friend some space to think.

Some half an hour later, Liz had recovered enough to make herself a cup of tea and curl up with a book. She still did not feel like going anywhere, but she had to take her mind off William.

It was then that the doorbell rang, and as she opened the door, she was immediately engulfed in a pair of large, well-sculpted arms.

"God, I have missed you!" William breathed into her hair, before lifting her chin with one hand and capturing her lips with his in a passionate kiss.

"I take it you've taken care of all of your business?" Lizzy asked sardonically.

"Indeed, my dear. Now I am all yours," he said, stepping fully into the room.

"And what business was it?" She asked, even though she already knew. She thought it was the best way to start the conversation they needed to have. The one where she would tell him off for his impulsive actions, and let him know that he did not need to play the knight in shining armor. That she was perfectly capable of taking care of her own self, and did not require him to go through such a hassle as a national press conference to clear her name.

"Well, first I had a little conversation with my aunt. Let her know that I will take a new manager, and would no longer require her services. Mr. Smith would leave with her, of course. Then I called up a few publications and made sure that such _untruthful _reporters were no longer on their payrolls. And then I had a little chat with a few reporters to make sure that any misunderstandings from this morning would soon be clarified in the media." As he finished, he smiled broadly, encircled her waste with his arms, and began placing soft kisses along her jaw.

Lizzy trembled. And here she thought that the "little chat with a few reporters" (_that _is what he calls a full-blown national press conference!) was the only thing he did – as if that was not officious enough! No! He also deemed it necessary to fire his own aunt (Lizzy could only imagine the detriment that would bring to the family relations), and somehow managed to fire several random reporters at prominent publications.

Just to make sure she understood correctly, Lizzy asked in a shaky voice: "You mean the _People _reporter who wrote that article was _fired_?"

"Of course," he responded nonchalantly. "As was the one at _Seventeen _and all the others. Dearest, I told you I could not tolerate anyone besmirching your name, and I fully meant it." He kissed her tenderly on the nose.

"But… how?" She asked in disbelief.

"Very simply," he smirked. "I told each publication that if they did not comply, they would be excluded from today's press conference. It would be a great loss for any one of them to be left out – they would immediately fall behind their competitors. Much easier to just fire a single reporter."

He then resumed kissing her, as if he did not have a care in the world. As if everything was as simple and easy as what he just described. And apparently, to him – it was.

Liz remained speechless. She _wanted _to say a lot. But none of it came out.

She wanted to reprimand him for his officiousness. She wanted to point out how cruel it was to ruin people's careers in such a careless manner. She wanted to scold him for taking everything into his own hands, for avenging offenses to _her _person without actually consulting _her._ She wanted to tell him just how presumptions and arrogant he was being. She wanted to be mad at him.

But she could not. Because beyond her disbelief, confusion, and anger, the predominant feeling wasawe. She was in awe of him, of this man who stood before her and caressed her so tenderly, who treated her as if she was his everything and he completely belonged to her, yet who held so much power. He did not realize that he had acted presumptuously and haughtily, that he had marginalized her by not consulting her beforehand. Because when it came to her, he seemed hardly to think at all: instead acting in a rash, impulsive, and often overly forceful manner.

It terrified her. It frightened her to know that he could do whatever the hell he wanted to whomever he wanted. He could get a random reporter fired with a snap of his fingers. What could he do to her if she were ever to get on his bad side?

But at the same time, it excited her. Lizzy had always been in control of every situation in which she had found herself. And her romantic relationships were no exception – she had always been the one with the power. In her relations with Will, too, she clearly had the upper hand. He worshipped her, and would do anything for her, that much was clear. Yet beneath that façade of veneration, lay an immense dormant power. If he _chose _to, he could easily take control. The way he had made her feel so lost and vulnerable that morning, when he came in with that stern look on his face was proof of that. It was unusual for Lizzy to recognize that in a man. Perhaps, she had finally met her match…


	31. Chapter 31

That same evening, after a beautiful date on a sunset cruise, William walked Lizzy back into his suite for some drinks. Watching her finish the last of her champagne, William declared with undisguised excitement:

"And now, young lady, you shall receive your massage."

Still lost in her thoughts, Lizzy startled and turned towards him with a baffled expression.

William laughed.

"My promises, remember? I said I shall fulfill one each day that we are here. And tonight's is a massage."

Understanding dawned, and she gave a hesitant smile. He scooped her up in his arms.

Liz was tired. The emotions she had experienced that day – fear as William awoke her with his stern arrival; anxiety as he was gone for the morning; surprise at the press conference; indignation at Will's presumptuous actions; and finally fearful awe at the full scope of that powerful man's abilities – had entirely exhausted her. Her head hurt from thinking and re-thinking all that had happened. Her feelings were numb from the fast succession of emotions she had felt. Her body was entirely helpless as William put her softly on the bad, and hesitantly began to slide her dress down her back.

"May I?" There was trembling in his voice.

She only shrugged. '_Too tired, too tired…'_

A few seconds later, she felt something cold and moist against her spine. And then the warmth of Fitzwilliam's strong yet tender hands, as he spread the massage oil over her shoulder blades.

He worked her back and shoulders with reverence, focusing all his attention on relaxing what he suddenly realized where very tense muscles. _'Why is she so tense? Is she stressed? What could be causing her anxiety? I must pay more attention, and make sure there is absolutely nothing to distress her! I shall not leave her for a single moment this coming week_,' He vowed to himself solemnly.

Lizzy's breathing slowed and turned increasingly even. She soon felt completely relaxed, warm, comfortable, secure… taken care of. The feeling of William's hands working her back was exceptionally pleasant and relaxing. _'Mmm…What magical hands.'_

As he finished the massage, Fitzwilliam bent down and began placing soft kisses along Lizzy's spine, trailing down to her lower back, and then back up to her shoulders. As he then moved to nibble gently on her ear, William smiled at the realization that his angel had fallen asleep.

He stood up from the bed, and proceeded to wrap the blankets snuggly around her. She was a vision in her sleep – so peaceful, so beautiful, so innocent. And seeing her in his bed did incredible things to his body. It simultaneously aroused him to an unprecedented extent, and made his heart constrict with an overwhelming wave of love. She had spent a night here before, he remembered, but he was not there to witness it, and it was under such entirely different circumstances… it felt like ages ago. Now, for the first time, he beheld the otherworldly sight of Elizabeth Bennet in his bed.

William was fully aware that Elizabeth would not appreciate it if he simply jumped into bed with her and cuddled her in his arms, as he so longed to do. Yet he was unable and unwilling to depart from the room. And so it was, that he found himself in a large chair now positioned next to the bed, on the side where his angel slept so peacefully.

It was hours before Fitzwilliam Darcy dozed off in that chair. Hours filled with nothing but love and wonder, as he watched Lizzy's soft, even breathing.

The days that followed passed in a joyful, colorful whirlwind.

Lizzy woke up on Monday in an unfamiliar bed. Her confusion did not last more than a few seconds, however, for she did not even have enough time to step out of bed before she was greeted by William and a tray filled with breakfast. A momentary fear overwhelmed her as she tried to remember the previous night. _'There was a massage, and then…?'_ Her eyes traveled to the large chair next to the bed, which had previously stood by the window. It appeared disheveled, and a blanket hung conspicuously over the arm. Lizzy's fears evaporated instantaneously, only to be replaced by slight guilty at forcing Will to spend such an uncomfortable night.

He drew her out of her thoughts with tea and chocolate croissants. He smiled, laughed, and stroked her cheek and hair very gently.

And if Lizzy noticed the dark circles under his eyes, she did not say anything.

That evening, he took her to a play.

They went fishing on Tuesday, for the entire day. Liz was pleasantly surprised with that choice for a date. A messy day on a boat was not a place she had pictured the rich and proper Mr. Darcy taking her. Yet he managed to impress her. And Lizzy noted with pleasure that he was even more fun and exciting – even a better fit for herself – than she had thought.

She was tired that evening, and welcomed the foot massage he insisted on giving her. His hands felt as delightful on her feet as they had on her back, and the strain of the day was magically relieved after twenty minutes of his tender ministrations.

That night, William fell in love with Lizzy's feet just as much as with the parts of her that he already knew and adored.

And then on Wednesday, they took a helicopter ride over Cancun.

He did manage to cook her dinner that night. It resulted in the downstairs restaurant being closed for the entirely of the evening, and doubtless a significant financial loss ensued.

He did not care. It was well worth it. _Anything _would be well worth the soft moan that came out of Elizabeth's perfect lips when she tasted his grilled salmon.

"Delicious," she mumbled incomprehensibly, her mouth full, her teeth busily chewing, her eyes hungrily measuring out the next piece of fish. The immaculate layout of salmon, risotto, and sautéed spinach that he had arranged on the plate was long gone. Such heavenly food deserved to be devoured.

He watched her eat, laughing with such happiness as he had not felt in years. Something about it made him think of his mother. But not in the gloomy, sad, hopeless way he usually thought of her. No, the memories were cheerful, and yet did not oppress – did not mock – him with that cheerfulness. There was no wistfulness – only happiness. Lizzy magically colored his entire world.

He had made tiramisu for dessert. It seemed like it had been forever since he last tried to make it, and he had almost ruined it. There was that moment when, tired and utterly stressed, he rushed about the kitchen, then slumped on a chair in desperation, running messy fingers through his disheveled hair. But it all worked out somehow.

And Lizzy's smile made him instantly forget all the anxious work he had put into the cream that was now entering her beautiful mouth.

She had a little bit of cream on the left corner of her mouth. He licked it away. That piece of cream was decidedly the tastiest bite he had during the entire meal.

They talked late into the night, holding identical mugs of chamomile tea in their hands, snuggled closely on his sofa.

And yet the next morning, he arrived promptly at 9AM, requesting to make her bed. She had not been awake, and he had to carry her sleepy form to the living room couch, where, after several moments filled with her grumpy complaints and his brilliant laughter, he rang for room service.

She giggled when she returned to the bedroom to get dressed. Never had she seen such an ornate, immaculate bed!

He playfully twirled her in his arms before taking her to the zoo.

And on Friday, he wrote her a poem.

_"Just love me, love,_

_With all your heart,_

_Not looking back,_

_Without fear._

_Please love me, love_

_For you're my life,_

_My muse, my angel,_

_Lizzy._

_Oh love me, love_

_Don't break my heart,_

_For it is yours,_

_You know that,_

_So love me, love_

_As I love you,_

_And always will -_

_Forever."_

Lizzy read it. And laughed. Will was only offended for a moment, before joining in her mirth.

Yet for the rest of the day, the words of his poem rang through her head. She may have dismissed it as funny at the moment, but she would have been a fool not to feel how very _serious _it was, all of it.

They surfed together, and at night, they saw a ballet.

He did help her pack on Saturday, once they came back from an early morning swim, both wet, both panting, both exhausted. Both happy, both laughing.

They each went to their suite to clean up. She took a quick shower, and when she came out, was surprised to see William folding up her dresses on her bed. Lizzy giggled, and proceeded to wrestle him for a pair of her jeans.

He won. And reaching a temporary truce, they packed the rest together in companionable silence. Then he took her to lunch on the beach.

After lunch, on their last walk on the soft Cancun sand, they lost track of time.

Charlotte was frantic when she finally reached them.

"William, Lizzy! Our flight leaves in an hour!"

They were taking Will's personal aircraft back, which afforded them some flexibility. Yet the airtime had to be booked in advance, and they thought it best not to lose their space in the queue. Laughing, they ran from the beach and followed Charlotte to the hotel.

William merrily helped his staff load the luggage, and with a theatrical curtsy invited the two girls onto his plane.

"Welcome, my ladies."

Snuggled on a comfortable sofa together, Will and Lizzy sat across from Charlotte. Char smiled as she watched her friend snuggle into Fitzwilliam's arms. Her smile was genuine and warm, yet with a tinge of sadness, or wistfulness rather.

Lizzy did not see it. She was looking out of the window, taking one last parting look at the place where she had just spent such a blissful week. She thought she heard a sigh from her right, and turned towards William. Their eyes locked, and they looked at each other for several seconds, with steady, thoughtful gazes.

They both smiled at the same time.

And without words, they both knew they were feeling the same thing: those days in Cancun had been some of the best in their lives.

Overcome with a tender emotion, Lizzy rested her head on Will's shoulder, and whispered almost to herself: "Will it always be like this?"

"Yes, my love, for as long as you'll have me."


	32. Chapter 32

"I told you it was a bad idea," Lizzy whispered softly into Darcy's ear.

He only chuckled in response. Lizzy groaned in frustration at his seeming nonchalance. How could he be so calm and happy, as if he did not have a worry in the world? As if there was nowhere he would rather be than right there – in the living room of the Bennet household, listening to its matron's incessant chatter. Why couldn't he just leave, and end her misery?

Yet despite all of Lizzy's efforts to prevent Fitzwilliam from escorting her home, he had insisted on not only driving her home in his personal car, but on coming into the house with her as well.

_And now…_

"And what about that acquisition, Mr. Darcy? The one that everyone was talking about before you went to Cancun? Are you still planning to go through with it? I think the merger of Pemberley and Astronox would be a splendid idea! My, it's amazing how grand and impressive Pemberley has become in only half a year! You really are a _wonderful _manager, Mr. Darcy! And so kind, and generous, sweet and romantic… My Lizzy is a very lucky girl." Then, turning to Lizzy, she spoke in a much more abrupt tone: "Lizzy, child, why don't you go put on some tea for Mr. Darcy? I'm sure he would like some refreshment."

"Oh, no, there's no need, madam, really," he protested at once.

"Oh, Mr. Darcy! You are all politeness. But I absolutely insist. Lizzy, go put some on," she practically hissed.

Reluctantly, Liz stood from the couch she shared with William.

He followed immediately. "I'll help you."

But Mrs. Bennet protested in a saccharine tone: "Oh, no, sir, don't exert yourself. You stay here and relax – you must be tired from the journey."

"And I am not tired from the journey at all," Lizzy drawled sarcastically.

"Why, of course you aren't! What an amazing flight you must have had – in Mr. Darcy's private airplane!"

Lizzy hurried off to the kitchen, realizing that making tea was a much-preferred alternative to tolerating her mother's inane chatter.

Some half an hour later, the gentleman finally left. They got a moment of privacy when she saw him out of the door, and he took the opportunity to give her a passionate kiss.

Holding her tenderly, he leaned his forehead against hers. "I love you."

She laughed. "Don't you even think that that will gain you forgiveness!"

"Forgiveness? For what?"

"For refusing to put me out of my misery. _Why _did you have to come in?"

"Silly girl. I _like _being with you."

"And with my mother?"

He shrugged. "I don't mind your mother. She is a sweet woman at heart, I can tell. Besides, how could I ever begrudge the woman who gave birth to _you_?" And he smiled so sweetly, lovingly, tenderly, that she almost forgot that she was upset.

"Silly man," she mumbled, resigned, and nuzzled his cheek.

They finally let go of each other, and he asked, insecurity lacing his words:

"When will I see you again?"

She took his hand and squeezed it, reassuring. "Tomorrow I will talk to Greg. And then we can go out in the evening." After a momentary pause, she added with a soft smile: "As boyfriend and girlfriend."

He beamed. "Thank you." Then he lifted her hand to his lips, placed a tender kiss on her knuckles – and walked away.

Lizzy took a few moments to compose herself before returning into the living room. She marveled at Fitzwilliam's serenity in the face of her mother's absurdity. Indeed, Mrs. Bennet's nerves were enough to drive anyone to abstraction. But Fitzwilliam took it all in stride.

And yet, Lizzy knew how he had always felt about such behavior as that exhibited by Frances Bennet. Such over exuberant, gold-digging mothers had always repulsed him, and were one of the reasons for his cold, haughty manner. If was because of such huntresses that he had broken so many innocent girls' hearts. They treated him as a trophy to be won – and in return he treated them like trash. But now… now he was so different. Now he was nothing but sweetness and politeness – and all for her. There was something about that realization that warmed Lizzy's heart and put a smile on her face, making it almost worth it to suffer through her mother's silliness.

When Liz walked back past the living room, she was relieved to see that her mother was no longer there. Stealthily, Lizzy crept up the stairs and into Jane's room. She knew that her sister had only just arrived back from San Francisco a few days before, and was eager to see her again after a two-week absense.

She found her sister seated at the desk, reading.

"Jane!" Lizzy exclaimed, and rushed to her sister's side. She flung her arms around Jane's neck and squeezed her into a hug.

Lizzy's brow furrowed when she noticed that her sister did not return her greeting.

"Jane, dearest, what is the matter?"

"How could you, Lizzy?" Jane exclaimed accusingly, at last lifting her head. Lizzy was terrified to notice the tears rolling down her sister's cheeks.

"What have I done?" Lizzy whispered, overcome with dread.

"You… you… how could you accept that man? Does his wealth mean more to you, Lizzy, than my happiness?"

Understanding began to dawn, and Lizzy attempted to interject. "Jane, listen –"

But Jane would have none of that. She continued, now agitated, her voice loud and accusing. "I never expected this from you, Liz! I thought that I meant more to you than wealth and fame. But now I see how wrong I had been! All you care about is yourself, and you jump right into Darcy's arms when it suits you, forgetting how much pain he caused me. And all that crap about hating him – it was nothing more than a masquerade, was it? Playing hard to get! Ha!"

"Jane, please," Lizzy pleaded softly.

Jane glared at her.

"There's nothing you can possibly say that I would wish to hear. Please leave me alone, _Lizzy_. Go play with your billionaire."

"Jane, stop it!" Lizzy now shouted, seeing as it was the only way to get her sister's attention. "You got it wrong! _I _got it all wrong."

"I have no idea what the fuck you're talking about, and frankly – I don't care." And Jane determinedly turned back to her book.

"Jane," Lizzy attempted to reason, "do you remember that time I overheard William's conversation with Charles?"

Jane laughed bitterly. "Oh, _I _remember. Thought it seems that _you _managed to forget."

"Jane, I was wrong. What I overheard was wrong." Lizzy drew a deep breath. "They weren't talking about you. William was talking about Caroline. She had been relentless in her pursuit of him, and he could no longer put up with such invasion of his privacy. So he asked Charles to take her away."

Jane regarded her skeptically. As if accessing her sister's sincerity.

After a long time, she pronounced doubtfully:

"But you seemed so sure that they were talking about me."

"I was silly, Jane. I was ready to think the worst of William, and to jump to the most unpleasant conclusions. The truth is that I only heard glimpses of their conversation. And even though I had heard them mention your name – that's what prompted me to listen in in the first place – they could have easily switched to talking about Caroline. Jane, you must believe me! I was wrong, and I'm so sorry…"

Jane did not respond.

"Please, Jane dearest, please don't be man at me," Lizzy pleaded earnestly. "What you said about me dating William with no concern for you really hurt. It's so not true, Jane! In fact, I had refused him precisely for that reason. That's how I learned that I was mistaken – that he was talking about Caroline… Jane, I could never love anyone who hurts you! Please, you must believe me."

Jane sighed. It was clear that Lizzy was speaking honestly. She shook her head ruefully.

"Lizzy, darling, I believe you. But I'm not so sure whether we should believe William. He could have easily made up the story about Caroline to get you to go out with him."

Lizzy started. "No, Jane! No! He could never do such a thing. Jane, sweetie, I've come to know him better in the past week – and he's so sweet, so earnest, so wonderful. I don't think he could ever deceive me in such a manner…"

Jane was almost amused by the dreamy look on her sister's face. She marveled at the transformation Liz had undergone in only a week. Never before had Jane seen her favorite sister in love.

"But Lizzy," Jane at last interjected gravely. "I have not heard from Charles since he left. Such behavior is much more consistent with him having left on account of me rather than his sister…"

Lizzy's brow furrowed. "That I cannot explain. William is puzzled by it too – but he said he'll speak to Charles about it."

"I'm sure he will…" Jane mumbled cynically.

"You still do not believe him, do you?"

Jane shook her head.

"Oh, please, Jane, you must – I assure you –"

"Lizzy, it doesn't matter. I have my own doubts, and I don't think anything you can say at this point will dispel them. So let's speak about this no more. Why don't you instead tell me about your time in Cancun?" And she pulled a smile onto her face.

Lizzy beamed. "Only if you tell me about your time in San Francisco!"

The girls spent a very pleasant afternoon catching up. The grudge that Jane still held against the formidable Mr. Darcy was, for the time being, forgotten. And for the duration of that sunny afternoon, it felt almost as if they were a few years younger, animated high schoolers chatting in their room about school and boys.


	33. Chapter 33

Lizzy needed to break up with Greg. She had a simple plan to do so. She would go up to his house in the morning, bringing with her the little souvenir shell turtle that she had bought for him in Cancun. She would tell him how wonderful he was, and how much she had enjoyed spending time with him. Then she would explain that it was not his fault – not anyone's fault, really – but her heart had already been captured by another man even before she and Greg began dating, although at the time she had not known it. She would end things with him swiftly – easily for herself, and as painlessly as possibly for him.

Lizzy's plan was clean and simple.

But as all such lovely plans, it was not to be executed.

Things began to go wrong when over her breakfast bowl of cereal, Lizzy heard an insistent knock.

She opened the door. She saw Greg. And immediately the equilibrium of her carefully constructed plan was broken.

_Something_ was wrong.

He was at her house, and not the other way around. And all of a sudden, she did not know how to proceed.

"Greg!" She exclaimed, surprised, and then, by some misplaced habit, threw her arms around his neck. It felt right, it felt normal, it was what she had always done before.

"Lizzy!" He greeted back, and with a happy moan nuzzled her neck. "I've just gotten back from the airport. My God, I have missed you!"

He stepped inside now, holding her tightly and tenderly and awkwardly all at once.

_Everything _was wrong.

They were making their way to the cough, entangled in each other's arms, his enthusiasm translating into hers, by some combined force of physical attraction and habit. He was stroking her hair; she was hugging his waste. He nuzzled her cheek; she closed her eyes. He lifted her chin with his finger; she smiled.

He kissed her; she kissed him back.

His hands began to glide over her full breasts as his tongue played with hers. For several minutes, they were lost in each other and the sensations of their tender caresses.

"Oh, Lizzy! How much I have missed you," He murmured breathlessly. And then he steadied himself, and removed his hand from her half-unbuttoned blouse, blushing at the excessive eagerness of his groping. "Sorry, love, it's just been so long… and the whole time I could not stop thinking about the night we had spent together before I left. God, I have _missed _you!" He repeated again.

She did not answer; she was confused and disoriented. For a moment there, in Greg's embrace, she had lost all conscious thought – understandably so, perhaps, since she had just been reunited with a boyfriend she hadn't seen in two weeks. And his eagerness had overwhelmed her. As soon as she began to come back to her senses, her first conscious thought was the crushing feeling that _something, everything _was totally wrong.

"How was your trip, sweetheart?" He asked, misinterpreting her frozen, frowning face for disapprobation of his excessive advances. He was seeking to slow down a bit – talking about their respective holidays.

But with that question, he brought her fully out of her daze.

"Oh my God!" She exclaimed, and jumped from the couch. "Greg, I'm so sorry… I… I meant to do this properly, I had everything thought out – little speech and all. And then… and now…"

She was rambling. She was panicking.

"Lizzy, calm down," He reached for her hand, seeking to calm her. She brusquely drew it away. Then frowned at her own discourtesy.

"Sorry," Lizzy mumbled. "I can't. We can't. I…" Long, deep intake of air. "I'm breaking up with you, Greg." Exhale.

He did not appear to hear. Or maybe he did – for he was suddenly still.

Breathing more evenly now, she made an attempt at eloquence. "Greg, I'm sorry, really I am. But we can't… be together. You see, in Cancun, I realized that I really like someone else."

He turned away; she continued:

"I think I've liked him for a while, I just refused to acknowledge it, even to myself. I've been so lost in misapprehensions, misunderstandings. I'm sorry. But I must be with him – please, you understand, I'm sure you do. I never meant to hurt you. You're a great guy, Greg, the best of the best. You'll make some girl very happy some day…"

She stopped. It was clear that he was not listening. She could not blame him – the platitudes she was spouting at this point were not worth hearing; they were merely a mandatory part of every break-up.

"Fitzwilliam Darcy?" He asked after a lengthy silence. His cool, level tone surprised her. He was stronger than she had given him credit for.

Lizzy nodded. Although his head was still turned away, his eyes assiduously avoiding her, she was sure her nod was enough, and no verbal response was required.

"I see. Well, if that is what you want, Lizzy, I can only wish you well."

He stood up from the couch and walked towards the hallway.

"I'm sorry," She whispered sincerely, without bothering to follow after him to walk him out.

He turned to look at her, his eyes conveying much more emotion than his carefully controlled voice. Hurt, sadness, disappointment, and at the very bottom – the beginnings of anger.

He walked passed a girl standing in the hallway and towards the front door.

Lizzy slumped back on the couch, and mindlessly took to buttoning the top few buttons of her blouse. She felt nauseous.

"Lizzy?"

She lifted her head at the sound her name, and was surprised to see Charlotte reclining against the entrance to the living room.

"Lizzy, what were you thinking?" Lizzy involuntarily shuddered at the angry notes of Charlotte's voice.

"W-what do you mean?"

Charlotte's anger appeared to only increase.

"You just made out with him, Liz!"

"I – yes, I did… It was so confused, he took me entirely by surprise when he came here. I was planning to go see him instead, and –"

"I don't fucking care what you were planning, Lizzy. The fact is that you _kissed _him!"

Lizzy furrowed her brows. "And?"

Charlotte was seething.

"Don't you see? William is head over heels in love with you, and just when you led him to think that you may reciprocate his feelings, you go and make out with another man? I – I don't know what to say… Gosh, Lizzy, don't you have any feelings at all? Don't you see that what you've just done is _wrong_?"

"Charlotte, it wasn't like that –"

"I _saw _what it was like!"

"Charlotte, seriously, what's gotten into you?"

"What's gotten into _me_? Lizzy, can you even imagine how William would feel if he knew that you have just let Greg grope you on your living room couch? The man _adores _you, and this is how you repay him?"

"Charlotte, stop! At that point, _Greg _was still my boyfriend. If anything, it was him I was cheating on. And I _know _it was all wrong, but I was confused! And it was _not my fault_. I was still officially with Greg, but William has been so overwhelmingly insistent, that I agreed to start seeing him earlier. And maybe _that_'s the problem! He should have let me break up with my boyfriend first. Certainly, I don't see how _he _would have any right to be hurt in this case!"

Charlotte shook her head sadly. "Love is not about _rights, _Lizzy – it's about feelings… You know, this past week, I actually thought that maybe – just maybe – for the first time in your life, you were in love. But no. No, I was completely, utterly wrong. You don't know _what _love is!"

And before her friend could notice the tears that threatened to escape her tired eyes at any moment, Charlotte Lucas rushed out of the door.

Deep down inside, she knew that the anger she was unleashing onto Lizzy was misdirected. But she could not help herself. And why should she? Why should _she _strive to be fair when life was not?

_Fair_.

Charlotte hated that word. Nothing was ever fair. Everything, always – tilted over in the same way.

Was it _fair _that Liz was beautiful, intelligent, cheerful, and popular – while she was plain, mediocre, boring, and neglected?

Was it _fair _that Lizzy had two gorgeous men fighting over her – while she was alone and lonely?

Was it _fair _that Fitzwilliam Darcy would likely give his life for Lizzy – while Richard Fitzwilliam has not even called Charlotte _once _since she left Cancun?

Was it _fair _that Liz did not know what love meant – when Charlotte felt its stabbing pain every moment of every day?

Deep, powerful sobs shook her entire body. She had reached her own house now, and allowed herself to cry. The tears now flowed freely in thin streams down her bony cheeks. How she hated those cheeks and the stark contrast they formed with Lizzy's full, rosy ones. How she hated Lizzy right now. And how she hated herself even more for those ungracious feelings towards a friend she had always cherished since childhood.

How she hated herself for taking out her unhappiness on anyone other than it's sole source.

Richard Fitzwilliam.

How she hated that name.

And yet how very much she loved its charming, confident, majestic sounds. How very much she loved its owner.

When they had parted in Cancun, their relationship was at the best unclear. He wished her well, and hugged her in a non-descript fashion. There were no promises of future meetings, no clarifications of their feelings.

And during the entire flight back, Charlotte mulled over every word, over every glance, over every subconscious gesture. Chasing the non-existent.

Liz hadn't noticed, of course – she was far too engrossed in her own newfound happiness to notice Charlotte's melancholy.

Back then it was merely melancholy. Sadness mixed in with vague, ethereal hope.

Now it was misery. Hopeless, dejected. It had been two days and he had not called. That didn't say much in and of itself, granted. But combined with the six voicemails she had left on his phone, his silence said plenty.

She had actually managed to reach him once, but he was busy; he said he'd call back.

He never did. And her six subsequent calls went straight through to voicemail.

Charlotte sighed, drying her eyes. Her hysteric fit had come to an end. She had calmed herself now, and could proceed with her mundane life. She felt a bit embarrassed at her overreaction. She had gone over to the Bennet house planning to invite Lizzy for a walk, but chanced to witness her friend's kisses with Greg. And then everything spiraled out of control…

But Charlotte couldn't help it. It hurt to see Lizzy carelessly playing with a devoted man's heart, not giving a damn about love. It hurt to see her friend be so ungrateful for something that Charlotte would have treasured.

Was it _fair_ that love should be given to someone who had so little appreciation for it?

All she wanted was to be loved. Was it so much to ask?


	34. Chapter 34

Jane Bennet nearly dropped the telephone the moment she heard _his _voice on the other end of the line. Tired, hesitant, trembling, uncertainly. But still his, always his.

"Jane?"

'_Breathe in, breathe out.'_ She clutched the receiver tightly with her hand, as if afraid that the voice on the other end would disappear. As if not trusting her hand to hold still, to hold on.

"Janie, are you there?" So quite now, unsure. "Jane?"

"Ch-Charles?"

"Oh, Jane! God, I'm so glad I could reach you… Listen, I – um, Jane… Just, just don't hang up. Let me speak. Th-there's so much I need to stay. My God! I'm so sorry… Janie… I miss you, Jane."

She could barely make out his ramblings. She was far too preoccupied trying to remember to breathe. And regardless – what did it matter what he said? The sounds of his voice, the subtle undulations, were already enough – were already too much – after two weeks of utter silence.

"Jane, are you still there?" He paused. Then, frantic: "Jane, please, say something! I beg you, Jane!"

"I am here."

Relieved sigh. "Oh Jane… I – I don't know what to say."

Silence. Only a mental note that she was becoming calmer now. Progress, success.

"Jane, I've been so caught up. I – I really should have called you earlier. But you must understand – I… I didn't mean to neglect you. I had to get away because of Darcy and Caroline and… damn! It doesn't even matter. I just had some business to take care of, and of course I should have told you first, but I had to leave so abruptly… and then in England, I got so caught up with my parents, and some work-related stuff, and just… Look, I'm sorry. That's all I got to say."

Silence. The initial shock was gone now. Gone also was the feeling of ecstasy at hearing _his _voice. In their place returned sadness and irritation – memories of tears and lonely nights.

"Jane, please tell me there's a chance you might forgive me. I've been silly, and thoughtless… But I'll make it up to you, really, I promise!"

Silence. And finally – anger. Anger at him for all he had put her through. Indignation at the nonchalant way in which he thought he could simply walk right back into her life.

"Jane, please, talk to me."

One last moment of silence. And in it – realization that she finally had the upper hand. An upper hand that she was not willing to give up too easily. A woman scorned, a woman hurt, Jane Bennet was not going to let Charles Bingley simply waltz back into her life, or into her heart.

Calmly: "Charles, why did you call?"

"I… um… Jane… I…" What could he say? The pang of pain that he felt at her icy tone was nothing, he was sure, compared to the feelings _she _must have felt when he had left. "I am sorry."

"Apology accepted. Have a good day."

"No!" Frantic: "No, Jane! Don't hang up. Please! Let me talk to you."

"Very well: speak."

Silence. He attempted to gather his thoughts.

"I am flying into Netherfield tomorrow afternoon."

"Have a save trip."

She could faintly make out a heavy sigh on the other end of the line. "Jane, don't be like that. You don't have to. Really. I already feel like shit."

"Charles, can I ask you a question?"

"Anything."

"Why did you suddenly decide to do this whole dramatic thing? Why now?"

"I… well…" Ashamed, he admitted the truth: "I got a call from Darcy. He told me that I really hurt you when I left so abruptly. I – I am sorry, Jane. I never meant to hurt you. I – I l-love you."

"Oh." Pause. "So it was Darcy? And until his call, I assume, you had completely forgotten all about me?"

"No! I mean… oh, Jane! It's – complicated."

She scoffed. "Complicated!"

"Jane, _please_. You must believe that I did not forget you – could never forget you. I thought about you every day. It's just – I needed to get Caroline away from Darcy, and there were some family issues once we got to England. Some inheritance quarrels, and Caroline's trust fund, and just… And I _did _try calling, as soon as I got some semblance of peace, about a week ago. But I was told you went to San Diego. But I knew I would be back in Netherfield in no time…"

"So why are you in such a hurry now?"

"I just – I just realized that I had been more careless towards you than I had thought."

"And it took Darcy to make you see that?"

"Jane, I am sorry. I don't think I should say anything else. There is nothing else I _can _say that would justify the way I have behaved. But I love you. And if you would only permit me to see you again when I arrive in Alabama, if you would only allow me to try and make things up to you – I promise that I will do everything in my power to win back your trust."

He spoke so tenderly, so seriously, so earnestly, that her anger melted away, and a gentle smile began to spread across her lips.

How she had missed him.

"Jane, may I please see you again?" So hopeful, so sincere.

"You may." She did not trust herself to say another word, without betraying her emotions. It would not do to jump straight back into his arms; she had to be strong. "I will see you soon Charles. Have a nice flight. Good bye."

"Good bye, Jane, angel…"

When she hung up, she nearly shrieked from joy. And wished that Lizzy were home to share her uncontrollable happiness, the nervous sort of joy that comes with relief of a weeks-long stress.

But Lizzy was on the other side of the town, in Meryton's largest mansion, hugged so tightly that she could barely breathe.

"Lizzy, Lizzy, Lizzy, Lizzy, Lizzy," Will murmured, pressing sweet, tender kisses all over her hair. "My Lizzy. _My _Lizzy! Mine at last."

She smiled into his shirt. The fleeting feeling of guilt that had overtaken her when he first asked whether she had broken up with Greg – his eyes so uncertain, so afraid, so vulnerable, so full of all-consuming love – had evaporated. In its place was sheer happiness.

"I love you, Lizzy."

And she could almost say it back. _Almost_.

And he could almost feel her own almost. He thought with anticipation that soon she might return those words. The words he spoke so routinely, yet with such meaning every single time.

"Will, you must let go before I suffocate," she joked.

"Oh no, sweetheart, I will _never _let you go now."

"Silly man." She giggled into his chest.

"_Mine_."

"You are crazy, Will."

"And you are beautiful."

"Will, Mrs. Reynolds said that we are having a guest for –" Georgiana stopped abruptly as she walked into the living room. "Lizzy?"

The couple finally separated.

"Giana!" With a light exclamation of delight, Lizzy ran up to the girl, and encompassed her in a bear-hug.

"Lizzy, I -… wow, just wow. Are you and Will – are you together now? Have you made up?"

Georgiana Darcy had a lot of questions for her brother and his girlfriend, and they were all duly answered – with suppression of some less flattering details – over lunch. She was tremendously glad that her brother was finally able to get his happy end with the woman whom he seemed to absolutely adore.

Fitzwilliam Darcy was relieved that he could tell his sister exactly what she wanted to hear – that finally, Elizabeth was truth and entirely his. Even though they had been, for all intents and purposes, together for over a week, Lizzy's break-up with Greg meant a lot to Darcy. That other relationship had hung like a shadow over theirs for the past week, and finally removing that shadow filled his chest with such warmth, such happiness, such brightness.

The three of them spent the whole day together. Taking a walk in the park, going out for ice cream, playing a few games of tennis, cooking dinner, curling up to watch a film.

_Breakfast of Tiffany_'s had come to an end, and Georgiana got up to turn off the DVD. She then quietly left the room, smiling to herself as she cast one last glance at the couple curled up on the sofa. Lizzy's head was resting on Will's shoulder, and her eyes were closed. But she was not fully asleep, her hand playing idly with his fingers.

"I spoke with Charles this morning," he told her softly, while stroking her hair and smiling to himself at the brilliancy of her chestnut curls.

"Oh?"

"I told him that I was disappointed in him."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, the way he left – the way he treated Jane – was… It was not how a caring man would act, and not how I expected _him _to act."

"What did he say?" Lizzy was fully alert now, sitting up straight and anxiously awaiting the resolution of Darcy's discussion with his best friend.

"He… I don't think he had fully realized how much he was hurting Jane. He seems to have been very caught up with things, and it just sort of –"

"That's not an excuse," Lizzy snapped. Her eyes lit up with indignation and protectiveness as she thought about dear Jane.

"I know, _I know_! Frankly, I can't fathom how he could have been so careless. I would never –" He paused and laughed. "But then, I'm sure you have already noticed that I would never leave you alone," he whispered, and placed a soft kiss on the tip of her nose.

Lizzy giggled. Then pulled her face back into a serious expression. "Don't distract me. What about Charles?"

"I think he is genuinely remorseful. Once he realized how badly he had behaved towards her, he determined to come back here at once and do everything to make things up to her. I really think that he still cares about her, that he was just being stressed and thoughtless…"

Lizzy smiled. "He's coming?" At Darcy's affirmative nod, she at last relaxed and put her head back on his shoulder. "Good." But then she added: "But I sure hope that Jane doesn't let him off easily! She should really make him work for it this time."

William laughed. "Not as much as you made _me _work for it, I hope?"

"Sheesh, you!" Then she looked up at him and asked half-seriously: "It wasn't _so _bad, was it?"

"Awful," he answered truthfully. Then gently framed her face in his hands. "But it was well worth it." And he captured her lips into a slow, lingering kiss.

Lizzy smiled under his kiss. She had her Fitzwilliam Darcy. And soon, it seemed, Jane would have her Charles Bingley. The world at last was starting to make sense.


	35. Chapter 35

"What will happen next week?" Lizzy frowned as soon as the words left her mouth. Never had she heard her own voice sound so uncertain, so insecure.

"What do you mean, love?"

"Well, I'll be going back to New York, and…"

William smiled. "Do you think there is anything in this world – and I mean _anything _– that could possibly keep me away from you?"

"Well, considering that even your Aunt Catherine did not succeed – I would guess 'no'?"

He laughed, and hugged her tighter. Lizzy smiled. Why had she never noticed before that his laughter was the most beautiful, radiant sound?

Darcy kissed her forehead softly, and then assumed a more serious tone:

"I really mean it, Lizzy. I would not part with you for anything. Of course, you must go back to New York. And of course I cannot come with you. Not yet. But I've been thinking… I could move the headquarters to the city."

Lizzy gasped. "Will, no! You can't move your entire company on account of me." She was flattered, of course, by the way he was willing to do anything for her. But at the same time, she thought of how large Pemberley had become, and really how monumental such a move would be. This reminder of Fitzwilliam Darcy's wealth and importance – all of which he would instantaneously put at her disposal – chilled her. It reminded her of the way she felt that night in Cancun, when he came back to her and casually mentioned having fired reporters at some of the most prominent publications in the nation. And while she felt flattered and powerful, this man's grandeur made her feel simultaneously meager and insignificant.

Darcy stroked her cheek. "It's not such a big deal, sweetheart. Besides, Pemberley has undergone quite a change recently. From a privately-held local business it has suddenly transformed into a national corporation. There are many more facets to the business now; and many more people I must interact with as the CEO. It might even make sense to move the headquarters to a place where it would not be so isolated," he mused thoughtfully.

"Are you sure?" Lizzy questioned uncertainly. "If you really think that that's what's best for the business – then sure, do as you please. But don't move Pemberley on account of me."

"Frankly, I'm not sure what's best for Pemberley on that score. But I _do _know that I cannot stay away from you, darling." And there was a dazzling glimmer in his eyes as he leaned in to kiss her.

"William, stop it! I am trying to have a serious conversation," Lizzy chastised him sternly, but the corners of her lips betrayed the laugh she was trying to suppress.

"Well, _seriously_, I think any significant business transition would need to be gradual. Perhaps this would be best: I will keep Pemberley in Meryton for now, but I will buy us a nice apartment in the Upper East Side, and will live there with you. I'll come back and check in on my Meryton employees once every week or two. I've been spending most of my time traveling to business meetings and press conferences anyway; there is hardly any reason for me to continue to reside in Meryton. I will just need to find a competent COO to look after the internal operations here while I'm gone."

Lizzy sighed. "You make everything seem to easy…"

"Is that a problem, my dear?"

"No, not at all." But she did not sound convinced.

"What is it?" He pressed.

"It's just… nothing."

He held her face tenderly but firmly in his hands, and pierced her eyes with his. "Tell me."

"Well, it's just that… we're so different. The way you seem to be in change of everything in the world just makes me… it makes me feel weak. Intimidated is perhaps a better word. I've never felt that way before, and I don't like it. I'm used to being the stronger one in a relationship. So it takes some getting used, I suppose, to date a billionaire who has everything at his disposal…"

He was silent for a few moments. Then spoke very earnestly: "But that's not true, is it, Lizzy? That you're weak or that you are not in charge. Because you are, and you know it – you must. Because I am certainly not in charge of _everything _in the world – there is at least one thing that controls me fully. You. Everything I have is yours, and everything I do is for you. A word from you, Lizzy, and I will do as you please. Your wish is my command." He saw her lips curl into a smile at his expression, and added: "And I don't mean that as a joke."

"I know," She breathed out, and pressed her head against his shoulder. All her insecurities had been magically lifted with his assurance. She felt serene and peaceful. She felt happy. Right there, in his protective embrace – she felt at home.

When she left his house an hour later, after a few too many parting kisses and an agreement to see each other the following day for a home-cooked dinner at his place, Lizzy could not stop smiling. That silly grin did not leave her face even when she came home to be pestered by Mrs. Bennet and teased by Lydia. Funny enough, Liz simply didn't care. She merely sighed contentedly, and remarked in her mind that she had never been so happy before.

Her present state of unadulterated happiness was fully matched by her boyfriend. He missed her as soon as she had left, and pined for her presence. But it was not the frustrating, desperate pining of a few weeks before. Even when she was out of his sight, he was still content in the knowledge that she was _his _now, and forever. Of that, he would make sure. He would never let her get out of his grasp now that he finally had her. What's more, he had a tingly feeling that she did not _want _to ever be away from him – that she was well on her way to returning his love.

It was in this pleasant mood that Mrs. Reynolds found him, when she came to announce the arrival of a certain Gregory Samberg. She was a little perplexed to be honest. _'What could this young boy whom I've never seen before want with Mr. Darcy?'_

If Darcy was equally surprised, he did not let it show.

"Please show him in."

He spent the few moments before Greg came into his study feeling irritated at having his sweet thoughts of Lizzy so unceremoniously disturbed.

"Mr. Darcy," the boy greeted uncertainly, yet with a certain air of stateliness.

"Yes, Mr. Samberg, how may I help you?"

Greg let out a dark chuckle. "I was more under the impression that I would help _you_,Mr. Darcy."

Darcy furrowed his brows in confusion. He was beginning to feel irritated with the boy, but kept his voice to a tone of calm indifference. "I am not sure I understand you, sir."

"I came to speak to you about Miss Bennet," Greg cut straight to the chase. "I understand she is your girlfriend now?"

Darcy frowned. "If you mean Miss _Elizabeth _Bennet, then you are correct." He was struggling now to keep his voice calm. "I do not see, however, how that should concern _you_."

Again, Greg laughed bitterly. "Because you remember, I am sure, that until three days ago she was _my _girlfriend."

"So?" Darcy was now visibly impatient.

"Oh, nothing at all, sir. I was only wondering whether you were as fully aware of things as you appear to be. Have you ever wondered how our break-up occurred? Or did Elizabeth tell you all about how we snuggled and made out before she asked me to leave her alone so she can pursue you instead?"

The look of mixed incredulity, terror, and pain on Darcy's face was exactly what Greg had expected and hoped for.

Gregory Samberg had never been a mean-spirited person, and his present maliciousness surprised even himself. But he could not help it. He was experiencing an intensity of feelings he had never known before. Losing Lizzy had been more than painful: nearly heart-breaking. But somehow, his love for Lizzy was nowhere nearly as strong as his hatred for Mr. Darcy. That man who represented and embodied everything Greg feared and despised: the wealthy upper class that controlled and enslaved the rest of humanity. The rich, handsome man who could just come up and steal anyone's girlfriend whenever he pleased.

Driven by this loathing, Greg continued in a tone that stabbed with his drawling nonchalance:

"She seemed like she really missed me, you know – the vigor with which her little tongue welcomed mine, the way her hands roamed on my shoulders, my chest. I suppose she hasn't had any in quite some time. Not surprising, really – she is probably only dating you for your wealth. Why would she sleep with you?"

"Enough!" Darcy roared as soon as she regained his composure. "I do not appreciate the way in which you have come into my home only to speak about my girlfriend in such a disrespectful way. I have no more patience for your lies, Mr. Samberg."

But Greg sensed that he had struck a nerve. He continued calculatedly:

"Very well, sir, I will cease. But before I leave, let me point out one thing. If Lizzy truly loves you and all I say is false, then how come she has avoided having sex with you, when she has had no such squabbles with me before her trip to Cancun?"

Against his better judgment, the words left Darcy's mouth before he could stop them: "She has slept with you?"

Greg sniggered. "Of course."

Darcy drew a few deep lungfuls of air in an attempt to steady his breathing. "You have said quite enough, sir. I do not believe a word you say, and ask you to kindly leave my house _at once_." The steel iciness of his tone brooked no opposition.

"Of course, Mr. Darcy. I only wished you to be informed. After all, it would be a real pity if you got too involved only to discover that the woman you adore cares nothing for you at all, except perhaps a little for your wealth."

And with that, Greg left at once, but not before remarking on the paleness of his host's face that belied Darcy's claim of not believing Greg's words. If nothing else, a seed of doubt had been planted in Darcy's mind. Greg's purpose had been achieved.

Fitzwilliam let out a heavy sigh and dropped into his armchair. He felt suddenly exhausted.

He did not know whether he really believed Greg's words. He wished with all his being most urgently not to believe them. But a part of him knew that they were true.

The only way to resolve his present predicament of painful dread and uncertainly was to speak with Lizzy directly. But he noticed with sadness that that excitement he had felt only ten minutes before for their date the following day was now gone. In its place was a feeling of dark foreboding. It was with nervous anxiety that he now looked forward to seeing his love, as if awaiting an execution.


	36. Chapter 36

Lizzy's bright, cheerful smile faltered somewhat when she entered the Pemberley dining room and beheld Fitzwilliam's stern, dark expression.

He stood up slowly, hesitantly as she walked in, uncertain how to greet her. He wanted desperately to run towards her, as was usually his wont, and to encircle her in his eager arms, planting passionate kisses all over her face. But he felt that it was not time for that yet. No, first he had to address the nagging questions that had been bothering him for the past twenty-four hours.

First he needed to assuage his sudden feelings of anxiety, of insecurity, of fear.

And then they would be free to embark upon the cozy evening of cooking and eating and loving.

"William? Is anything the matter?"

He roused abruptly from his thoughts at her appellation. And after a momentary silence, he began apprehensively:

"There is something I wanted to talk to you about, darling."

"Yes?" She placed a hand gently on his shoulder, in a gesture of comfort. But the wave of excitement and desire that her touch sent through his body only increased his anxiety.

"It's just… you see… I wanted to know… it's probably very silly… something's been bothering me…"

"William," She cut if off abruptly, but tenderly. She smiled. "What is it? Just tell me."

"Greg was here yesterday," He responded simply.

The fleeting glimpse of panic in her eyes pained him. _'Why does she suddenly look so fearful? Is she guilty? Is she distressed?'_

"And?" She asked tentatively.

"He said some things about your break-up – that you – that you… that you kissed him a few days ago, when you broke up with him." He drew a deep breath, and, seeing the darkening in her countenance, hurried to add: "I told him that I did not believe a word of it, of course, and ordered him out of the house, but…" He did not know how to finish.

"But you _did _believe it," She finished for him. Calmly, flatly, indifferently.

Her tone gave Fitzwilliam hope.

"It's not true?"

"It is," She answered simply. She wanted to say more, but knew not what. A myriad different feelings coursed through her body, but she could not give way to any of them. Frankly, she knew not _what _to feel. She wanted desperately to be annoyed at Fitzwilliam for doubting her, but she couldn't, because it was true.

William's face contorted into a grimace of pain.

"Lizzy…" He whispered softly, desperately. "Lizzy, how could you?"

His hurt expression sent a pang of guilt through Lizzy's heart, but she refused to acknowledge it. Instead, she took to arguing rationally:

"How could I what, Fitzwilliam? How could I kiss my boyfriend before unceremoniously breaking up with him? Or did you forget that _he_ was my boyfriend?"

The last phrase was imbued with more venom than was necessary. But it was the only way. She could either agree with him and feel horrible, or she could take offense at his presumptuous, controlling, possessive attitude. The latter was far easier.

"Yes, he was, but… but we had already begun going out together. You had decided to break up with him more than a week before. I thought… I thought…" He could not finish. He had to pause and regain his breathing, lest he erupt into a flood of tears. "I thought you loved me too."

If only at that moment Lizzy had swung her arms around his neck and assured him that she _did _love him! Then he would be the happiest man on earth, and would no longer give any consequence to Greg's petty words. If only his poor, battered, insecure heart could be assured of her regard! Then perhaps all would be well.

But she could not say, not yet. She felt it at the very tip of her tongue, but no… no, not quite. It was all too soon; it was all too fast. She was not yet certain whether she truly loved him. And Lizzy Bennet was not one to utter those words in vain.

Her silence was all he needed to hear.

His eyes hardened, and his voice grew cold.

"But you don't," He pronounced bitterly. "No, of course, you don't. I was blind to ever think that you could – that just maybe – that you were beginning to come to love me. No, far from it!" He drew a deep breath, and continued bitterly: "No, you slept with _him_, but you would not let _me _touch you!"

If his words were cruel, he no longer cared. She had hurt him more than he ever thought possible. And if he could throw even a thousandth part of that hurt back at her – all the better.

Lizzy's head sprung up at his accusing words, and her eyes shone with rage.

"How dare you!" She hissed angrily. "Is _that _what's gotten you so upset? That you haven't had sex with me? We've been together for a week, and you begrudge me the fact that I haven't let you fuck me?"

"You did it with him," He threw back with venom.

"What I have and haven't done with my previous boyfriends, Mr. Darcy, is non of your concern," She responded coolly.

"Oh, is that so? Am I supposed to completely overlook that you have had no problem fucking that Greg kid, but wouldn't let me anywhere near you? I've had to grovel, beg, plead – all for a chance to have your affection. And all you do is treat me like scum! Like I am not even good enough to have what Greg Samburg had!"

Lizzy seethed. "Did you just hear that last sentence, William? 'You have'; 'Greg had'! You speak as if I'm some stupid possession – a toy that you've wanted. A trinket that used to belong to another boy, and that you now want as your own. So that's all it boils down to; that's all I am to you. This whole tantrum you're throwing is because you're so damn _possessive_!"

"This isn't _about _my possessiness! This is about our relationship – our love… the love that I _thought _was ours, but of which you seem to feel none at all! You made out with another man after agreeing to be with me – after accepting my full, unwavering, adoring devotion! I gave myself to you completely and unreservedly; I gave you my everything; I've been entirely yours. And in return, you don't seem to feel a iota of affection."

He stared into her eyes, and she unwaveringly held his gaze. He inwardly begged her to understand how much she had hurt him, how much he wanted – no, _needed_ – her assurance, her love. And she wished fervently that he would come to see _her _side too – that her life did not revolve around him exclusively; that it was far more complicated that that; that she was not just a pretty little thing to possess, but a real person with real problems, with real feelings, with real opinions, with real mistakes.

They stood that way for what seemed like eternity, but neither yielded. Neither understood the other. They seemed to have come to an impasse.

Then he suddenly grabbed her shoulders and shook them almost violently.

"Lizzy, don't you understand?" His eyes were filled with desperation, beseeching her to understand. And then, softly, hopelessly: "No, you don't."

He released her arms and shook his head.

He lingered for one more second – giving her a chance to reply, hoping against hope – before turning around and determinedly exiting the room.

After he left, Lizzy let out a pained whimper.

Then a frustrated groan.

Then a desperate cry.

And then she hurried out of that ill-fated mansion. She was too absorbed with her own thoughts, with her own misery, to notice the withering glare that the housekeeper gave her as she left the house.

Three days had passed before Elizabeth Bennet gingerly took the phone in her hand and dialed his number.

Three days had passed before she finally acknowledged to herself that she was the one who had to make this next step.

Three days of walking around with a grumpy grimace on her face. Three days of wallowing in self-pity and blaming the world. Three days of angrily damning him for his possessiveness, for his over-reaction, for his lack of understanding. Three days of thinking that _he _should call.

Three days before she finally and unequivocally admitted that this time – she was the one at fault.

How easy it had been to always blame him! How easy it had now been to blame him once again – for three whole days.

'_How can he be so upset over a kiss when he has kissed Caroline Bingley?'_

But that's the thing: he had kissed Caroline Bingley, and the next day he was sending flowers and apology notes, and even agreeing to that monstrous date between her and Greg. That humiliating masquerade with Fitzwilliam Darcy sitting at a separate table watching the woman he loved have dinner with another man.

'_He had made so many mistakes himself! With Caroline, with Larissa, with Georgiana! How dare he now explode at me for a simple kiss with a man who was, for all intents and purposes, still my boyfriend?'_

But that's the thing: he had made mistakes, but he had also made amends. Always. He kneeled and he begged; he did everything possible to earn her forgiveness for every transgression. And he always more than made up for anything he ever did wrong.

And she? She took three whole days to dial his number.

Tears streamed down Lizzy's face as she thought how terribly wrong she had been, and how terribly much she must have hurt the man whom – she now fully and unreservedly acknowledged – she loved.

She was still angry with him; she still thought that he was not entirely blameless. But that did not matter. What mattered was that while they were both at fault – _she _was more so. And hence it was her place to call.

The ringing on the other side of the line was pure torture. Why couldn't he just pick up?

At last, she heard a faint "Hello?"

But it was not his voice.

"Mrs. Reynolds?" She asked uncertainly, recognizing the housekeeper. "May I speak with Mr. Darcy, please?"

"And who is asking?"

Lizzy thought she detected a tint of hostility in the pleasant elderly lady's voice. She was puzzled.

"It's Elizabeth Bennet, ma'am," She replied politely.

"Miss Bennet," The housekeeper repeated coldly. "I'm afraid Mr. Darcy does not wish to speak to you. Please do not trouble him again."

"But –"

"Look, Miss, he has expressly informed me that he does not wish to speak with you in the foreseeable future. Good day."

Mrs. Reynolds felt a stab of guilt for such unsolicited intervention, but she extinguished it immediately. She had been a faithful servant to the Darcy household for many years, and she felt she knew what was best. And this woman – this heartless creature – was certainly _not _good. Having witnessed the last conversation between her employer and Miss Bennet, she felt that the only course of action was to make absolutely sure that he never spoke to that vixen again.

Long rings replaced Mrs. Reynolds' voice on the other side of the line. But Lizzy still clutched the receiver fervently to her ear. When it fell from her lifeless hand a few minutes later, her entire body was shaking form uncontrollable sobs.

'_I have lost him.'_

Four days had passed before Fitzwilliam Darcy found himself staring at the telephone with pained eyes.

Four days of sheer, unabated torture.

Four days of thinking and rethinking, mentally going over every moment of their last conversation – and every minute detail of their entire acquaintance. Four days of doubting whether he was right. Four days of alternately blaming himself and reproaching her. Four days of wishing desperately to pick up that damned phone and dial her treasured number.

Four days of knowing that _this _time it was her fault, yet of wanting to badly to cave in.

'_How easy it would be to call her, to apologize, to make amends. To follow the same trajectory as I have followed countless times with her. How easy it would be to make things right.'_

But that's the thing: it would not make anything right. If she felt for him even a fraction of the love he harbored for her, she would call. He was by no means blameless, and he would apologize to her, of course. But she had to be the one to call first.

'_How easy it would be to crawl back to her, to take her into my arms, to forgive her everything without an apology. How easy it would be to then buy a house in New York City, where she wants, to be near her always.'_

But he could not. No, this time, she had to make the first step.

And the fact that she had not called him in four days could only mean one thing.

In two days she would leave Meryton and his life, and he would not be at the airport to see her off. In two days, it would all be over.

'_I have lost her.'_

Two days later, when Lizzy's plane took off from the Netherfield airport, two hearts seemed to break irreparably.


	37. Chapter 37

"Good morning, sunshine!"

"Mmm, morning…" Sarah Melvin did not like to be woken before ten.

"Why so sullen?"

"Do you even have to ask? It's bloody nine o'clock in the morning!"

"That's right! Nice and bright out." Peter Baxter chuckled cheerfully.

"What do you want, anyway?"

"There's something I'd like to discuss." His tone was suddenly more seriously. "Maybe we should meet up for breakfast?"

A stifled yawn. "Nah, I think I'd like to go back to bed straight after this conversation."

"Typical Sarah."

"Whatever. Stop tormenting me. Say whatever you need to say, and let me go sleeeep."

"Listen, I – it's about Liz. I'm worried about her."

"Oh."

"I mean, she's just not been the same ever since summer. She's been more… quiet, withdrawn."

"Look, Peter, if you're bitter just because she won't go out with you, then –"

"No, no, it's not that, silly. Liz has rejected me a year a go. A whole _year_. It's all forgotten and forgiven, chickpea. I've moved on, ok?"

"Um… ok?" She did not sound convinced.

"But don't you find she's been acting a bit… strange?"

"Maybe…"

"What do you mean 'maybe'? You're her roommate, for God's sake! Come on, Sarah, aren't _you _concerned?"

"Ok, yes, you're right. She's been quiet. But can't a girl have some time to herself? Why does she always have to be bright and cheerful and energetic?"

"Because she's _Liz_! That's how she is – that's how she's always been!"

"Maybe she's having relationship drama… and maybe she'd _appreciate _some privacy."

"I'm just worried, that's all."

"Well, I don't think there's any real reason you should be. She's a big girl; she can fend for herself."

Peter sighed, giving up. "Ok, fine, you must be right. But please, just… keep on eye on her, okay?"

"Sure," Sarah paused for a moment, thoughtful, before adding quietly: "Thanks, Peter. You're a good friend."

"No problem, chickpea," he mumbled sheepishly, embarrassed by her praise.

They hung up the phone not long after that, and contrary to her prior assertion – Sarah could not go back to bed. She felt restless now, mulling over Peter's arguments over and over again. Was he right? Was there something serious troubling Liz?

She would have to keep a closer eye on her roommate.

And that was precisely what Sarah Melvin was doing a few hours later, when she met Lizzy Bennet for brunch.

Lizzy's smile was wide and bright, her conversation witty and sparkling; and Sarah was ready to dismiss Peter's worries. But then there would be that sudden pensive look on Elizabeth's face, or that barely audible sigh, or that slightly lowered head. And Sarah would marvel at just how perceptive Peter had been.

It was in those moments that Sarah would glance across at the girl sitting opposite from her, and note the careful, intense way in which she was regarding Lizzy. Lauren Blackwell was Lizzy's best friend, and Sarah could tell that the girl was also worried. She would have to ask Lauren what she thought.

Lizzy was just beginning to debate with Lauren the extent to which Kafka's _Metamorphosis _was an autobiographical work, when deep yet silky baritone, tilted with a bit of amusement, cut into their conversation:

"That is a very good point, Elizabeth. But have you also considered the protagonist's relationship with his father?"

Liz looked up and straight into the dark blue eyes of her German literature professor. She felt a tinge of nervousness at having him enter their discussion on the book they were just beginning to cover in _his _class, but she answered bravely:

"Yes, of course, Professor Cohen. Gregor Samsa's relationship with his father parallels somewhat Kafka's own fears and insecurities with regard to his father, as can be seen from some of the author's letters."

Professor Cohen smiled and nodded, but then said unexpectedly:

"May I take this seat?" The girls nodded their agreement, somewhat surprised, and he gracefully seated himself next to Sarah and facing Lizzy.

They continued discussing the novel for another few minutes, but the conversation died away eventually, made a little awkward by their professor's presence.

He noted this, and attempted to ease the atmosphere:

"I was very impressed with your latest papers, girls." He glanced at Lizzy as he said this. "Although now I suppose it is no wonder – if you discuss Kafka even during Sunday brunch."

"We discuss many things, professor," Lizzy said somewhat defensively, although her reaction was subconsciously provoked not by his words but by the way he had been looking at her. "You just happened to stumble upon us at the most inopportune moment." She then gave him a cheeky grin to counterbalance her somewhat abrupt words.

"On the contrary, I found it most opportune." And he gave a very charming smile that was entirely lost on her.

They locked eyes for a few moments then, in strained silence.

"Oh no!" It was Lauren's exclamation that brought them out of their reverie. "I had completely forgotten that I have badminton practice at 1PM. I had better be running." She gave Liz a quick peck on the cheek, stood up, and did the same with Sarah. "I'll catch you later, girls!" Then acknowledged her German professor with a nod of her head. "Please excuse me, Professor Cohen."

"I should probably get going too," Lizzy mumbled quietly, looking only at Sarah.

Perceiving her silent hint, Lizzy's roommate chirped in:

"Ah yes, we had better bring our room to some semblance of order."

They both stood up and excused themselves.

"Of course, girls. It was a pleasure running into you," he added, looking directly at Liz. "I'll see you in class, Elizabeth."

And only when they were approaching their dorm, did Sarah finally speak what was on her mind:

"He likes you, Lizzy!"

"Who?" Liz questioned dumbly.

"Your professor, silly! Did you not see how he was staring at you?"

Lizzy silently shook her head. If her eyes had seen it, her mind refused to believe them.

"Oh, come on! I wager he only sat with us because of you. His eyes hardly left you the whole time. And that smile…"

_His eyes were deep blue, when she wanted passionate brown. His smile was too wide and too smooth, when she wanted stern and awkward. _

_He was someone else, when she wanted William._

Lizzy shook her head, in attempt to shake herself out of her thoughts. It was useless, thinking about a man who did not want anything to do with her. It had been a month already! Why could she not forget him?

"No, no, you must be mistaken, Sarah," Lizzy murmured quietly. "It doesn't make any sense. There are strict rules against professor-student relationships here. And besides, I'm sure he has no interest in me whatsoever, except as a student. He was intrigued by hearing two of his students discuss his class in the dining hall, and decided to join the conversation. That is _all_."

"As you say," Sarah shrugged noncommittally. It was clear to Liz that her friend did not believe her.

Lizzy wondered if she actually believed herself.

Especially as days and weeks passed, and she found herself running into Professor Cohen increasingly often.

Their conversations were always either light and pleasant, or fiercely, engagingly intellectual. He seemed to sense well her mood, and spoke always of things that interested her. She even forgot, most of the time, that he was her German literature professor.

He was the perfect gentleman to her and to any of her friends whom he was have the pleasure of meeting. Most of her female friends – even those who were aware of his role as her professor – had been utterly charmed by him. Some almost envied Liz; others told her either earnestly or teasingly that she ought to welcome his attentions.

She was no longer denying that his attentions did focus on her. However unlikely, however unreasonable that was – it must have been true. Even though his overtures were always subtle, his comportment the pinnacle of discretion. There was never even a hint of anything inappropriate, or anything that may compromise his position.

Professor Cohen was a smart man, even if with some less than intelligent inclinations.

And Lizzy knew that he was, objectively speaking, quite handsome. He was not old, not at all – at around thirty-one, he was a mere decade older than her.

'_A mere two years older than William.'_

She knew that she needed to stop thinking about William.

And was not a young and handsome professor, who shared her interest in Kafka and Hegel, not a good way to refocus her attention? Even if he _did _have those overly blue eyes, and that frustratingly non-brown hair, and those annoyingly thin, delicate facial features (none of that strong jaw line!), and that terribly wide, charming smile, and that exceedingly silky voice?

With every new week, with every subsequent encounter, she managed to fool herself more and more that yes, maybe, perhaps, just a little bit – she could do it.

And so she tried her best – to talk to him, to smile at him, to listen to him. To pretend to be excited about things he said; to pretend to _herself _that there was still something to be excited about, even without William.

They were discussing music out on the balcony, on the second floor of the German department, oblivious to the crisp and cool late-October wind.

He had just recounted his most recent excursion to Carnegie Hall. And she had actually listened with unaffected fascination. She loved music.

"Oh, that sounds wonderful! I love the symphony." Then she paused, before continuing wistfully: "Though I have not been in a while."

"How come?"

She shrugged. "Oh, I don't know. Just haven't gotten round to it, I suppose. Been so busy with classes, assignments, friends…"

"The Vienna Philharmonic is playing Wagner at Carnegie Hall this weekend," Professor Cohen said impulsively. "Would you care to go?"

Lizzy bit her lip. She had lied to him. The reason why she had not been to a single show in months was not because of classes, was not because of homework, was not because of friends. It was because of _him_. It was because two months ago, when her life had been all bright and beautiful, she had daydreamed about going to concerts with _him_. He had spoken so sweetly of moving to New York, and she had let herself get lost in those dreams.

But now those memories of happy dreams just caused her pain.

Lizzy refused to let herself be broken. She looked up at her handsome professor, smiled softly, and said:

"Yes, I would love to."


	38. Chapter 38

"Is this too much?" Lizzy fiddled with the rim of her black halter dress nervously. She had never before felt so anxious before a date. But it was not because she was shy, or insecure, or so interested in the guy that she would be afraid of a single wrong step. On the contrary, her sudden nervousness and uncertainly were stemming form the fact that deep down she did not even _want _to go. She was merely forcing herself to attend the symphony, and to enjoy the music if nothing else.

"No, not at all! Jesus, Liz, what's up with you? You are going to a concert and you dress like a nun?"

Lizzy frowned. "I don't know what you mean, Sarah..."

"Oh come on! This dress is the plainest thing I've ever seen you wear. And no jewelry except those tiny pearl earrings? That just... not like Lizzy Bennet."

"Are you saying I usually dress flamboyantly?"

"No, I'm just saying that you usually look like a girl. Like a _pretty _girl."

Sarah walked over with one of Lizzy's thin silk scarves, and hung it carelessly around her friend's neck. "There, that's already better. Now just a few more things."

A few minutes, black stilettos, alluring make-over, a soft wool coat, and elaborate silver earrings later – Lizzy stepped out of her dorm, and exchanged greetings with her handsome, immaculately dressed professor.

"Shall we?" He offered her his arm with a charming smile. She forced herself not to notice the discomfort she felt as she took it.

"What did you think of yesterday's seminar at the German department?" He asked politely.

"I thought some of the ideas were interesting," She began diplomatically. "But frankly I was somewhat disappointed. The speaker certainly did an outstanding job in summarizing some of the most prominent theories regarding the interpretation of _The Castle_, but I had trouble discerning any _novel _ideas in his presentation. What was _his _take?"

Professor Cohen chuckled lightly. "You certainly have high standards, Miss Bennet." The look he pierced her with sent a small shiver down Lizzy's spine. Perhaps noticing her discomfort, Elliot continued nonchalantly: "That was one of the most prominent Kafka specialists in the country."

"I am little impressed with status and titles, Professor," Lizzy answered simply, if somewhat defensively.

"You are quite unique," was his murmured response.

They remained for several moments in silence.

"I hope you are not cold," He at last pronounced, with a genuinely concerned glance at her legs.

"I'm fine," she assured him. "It's actually quite warm for November.

They spoke for the next few minutes of the weather and other mundane things.

Lizzy could feel that the conversation was stifled, awkward, arduous. But she could not help it. After all, this was her first real date since …

_'William.' _Even the thought of that name was somehow sweet. Bittersweet. Bitter.

Lizzy shook her head determinedly, and then turned towards her professor with a bright, almost genuine smile.

"I am really looking forward to tonight's performance, Professor. I looked up some of the pieces online, and the music is truly outstanding."

He smiled. "Are you a fan of Wagner then, Miss Bennet?"

"That would be a generalization. But I _am _partial to the Concerto No. 5. And the bits of today's opera pieces that I have had the chance to hear sound quite enticing as well."

"Well, I hope you enjoy it." He squeezed her hand lightly. And his own hand was so warm, so soft, so pleasant, that she barely felt any discomfort from the touch. "I shall demand to hear your full and honest opinion afterwards."

"Your request shall be granted, Professor," she replied with a smile and a mock bow.

"I have one other request, Miss Bennet."

She quirked an eyebrow in question.

"Please call me Elliot."

Lizzy's cheeks flushed slightly from the way he was looking at her as he delivered his request. His deep blue eyes pierced her with such an earnest expression of admiration mixed with lust, that she found herself sheepishly looking away. She could not quite place what it was that made her so meek, so awkward in his presence, so discomfited by his attentions – was it merely the fact that those attentions were not – _could _not – be fully returned?

"Of course, Elliot," she replied softly as soon as she regained her composure. "And you must call me Liz."

"Not Lizzy?"

"Lizzy is only for _closest _offriends," she joked.

And as he laughed with her, she found herself once again relaxing in his presence.

They were fortunate to find their merriment continue well into the night, as the concert managed to meet and exceed all of Lizzy's high expectations. The following dinner at the Russian Tea Room was equally exquisite, though a glance at the prices placed a small frown on Lizzy's face. She never cared much for money, and did not like it when men she dated spend inordinate amounts on taking her out. Besides, she found with disappointment that anything "fancy and expensive" now had the disadvantage of reminding her of Fitzwilliam Darcy with all his billions… and that charming, half-awkward smile.

The food was excellent, though. And with a strong mental effort she focused on her taste buds rather than on her bittersweet memories.

If Elliot noticed her distraction during any point in the night, he did not show it. He remained cordial, gentlemanly, and cheerful for the duration of their meal. And his own good humor put Lizzy so much at ease, that when he suggested a few drinks at the bar after dinner, she readily accepted.

Lizzy sipped her gin-based cocktail, as they chatted animatedly about everything at once. She smiled, she laughed, she spoke hastily and excitedly. For perhaps the first time in over two months.

And when he cupped her cheek gently, and drew closer, she did not pull back. With full understanding of his immediate intentions, she still leaned into him, and closed her eyes. And willed herself to ignore the small but intensely painful nagging sensations in the back of her head of this being somehow _wrong_. And willed herself to actually enjoy the soft touch of Elliot's luscious lips.

Another kiss followed. And another. Then he began to gently nibble the side of her neck.

They did not remain in the bar long after that.

His arm was wrapped securely around her small frame as they walked towards his home, occasionally stopping them both to claim her lips.

Lizzy felt a sudden chill through her spine as they stopped in front of an Upper West Side building. As if suddenly awoken from some sort of daze, she felt panicked. She urgently needed to act.

"Elliot –" She began probingly, unsure of how to proceed.

"Yes, Lizzy?"

She was silent for a moment, thinking of what she could say – of how she could put a stop to this… to this… _blasphemy_. For as ridiculous as it may sound, that was exactly what this felt like to her. Wrong. Callous. Blasphemous.

And all because it wasn't with William.

"I – we -…" She drew a deep breath, and schooled her facial features into a grave and serious expression. "I don't think this is right, Professor." She paused to draw another breath, and to relish the relief that washed over her as soon as she let out that first key sentence. "I am sorry – for everything. But I just cannot do this."

He studied her silently for a few moments, then looked away. After a few more seconds of thought, which were driving Lizzy insane, he turned back to her and smiled:

"You are correct, of course, Miss Bennet. This is very… imprudent. And while I do not personally believe that there is anything wrong with what we have been doing – or were about to do… I can certainly understand your concern. There is your reputation to consider, of course, if anyone were to find out. But more importantly there is my own career. And however much I would love to continue, upon a rational moment of thought, I must agree that it is best we part."

He lifted her hand to his lips, and placed a gallant kiss atop.

"Good night, Miss Bennet."

Lizzy regarded him for a moment with furrowed brows. She was trying very hard to make out this man: did he truly think that her sudden reluctance stemmed from fear of being discovered? Or was he merely attempting to provide her a smooth escape?

Either way, she was grateful for it.

So when she stood on her tiptoes, and placed a soft parting kiss on his cheek, her words were wholly sincere:

"Thank you for a wonderful night, Professor Cohen. I truly enjoyed myself."


	39. Chapter 39

It was late when Fitzwilliam Darcy left the office on November 11th. Late, dark, and cold. As he walked out of the building, he spotted a lone figure on the sidewalk. Looking closer, he recognized her to be Charlotte Lucas.

He had not spoken to Charlotte for a while now. Not since… not since Cancun. And he smiled. The sight of Charlotte reminded him of happier times, of sunny beaches… of Lizzy. He chased that last thought away, frowning. It was no use thinking about her. It had been over two months now, and she had not even called.

Attempting to disperse his melancholy thoughts, he walked up to Charlotte.

"Working late?"

She startled, not expecting to be addressed. But seeing that it was him, she smiled genuinely. "Good evening, Mr. Darcy. Yes, been busy with the accounts lately."

He nodded. "Please call me William."

She did not respond.

They had begun walking together now.

"Can I give you a ride?" He asked.

"Sure. Thanks, William."

Once in the car, he smiled and asked: "Home?"

After a moment of hesitation, she shook her head. "No, I don't want to go home. Not yet."

"Where were you heading?"

"I don't know."

"Then where should I take you?" He was beginning to grow impatient and irritated. He was tired. So very tired.

"How about a pub?" She asked tonelessly.

"Sure," He mumbled, and drove towards the nearest joint. Now that she had said that, he realized that it wouldn't be such a bad idea for him either. He had nothing better to do with his life nowadays. Why not have a few drinks?

They walked in and sat at the bar. She was silent, obviously lost in her own thoughts. He tried to think of a good conversation starter, but all that came out was:

"How's your friend been?"

He cursed himself the moment these words left his mind. Why could he not think about anything other than _her_? Why could he not take his mind off her for a single second, even now – two months after they parted… Two months after she left him.

"You mean Lizzy?" Charlotte asked sardonically, and he was surprised to hear the chilliness of her tone.

"Y-No. I mean… yes."

"I haven't spoken to her since she left for New York," Charlotte said as indifferently as she could.

He looked up at her in surprise. "Why?"

"Why have _you _not spoken to her since then?" Charlotte countered.

"I… well… we… um, we quarreled." He did not want to reveal anything unpleasant about Lizzy to her friend. At least he _thought _Charlotte was still her friend, although her present demeanor indicated otherwise.

Charlotte laughed. "Look, William, I appreciate your concern for Lizzy's privacy and everything, but I _know_. I know what happened. I don't know how you found out – but I _saw _her make out with Greg."

He flinched at the bluntness of her words. She continued:

"I told her what I thought about it, and we haven't talked since. Ok?"

"I-… I-…"

"You don't know what to say," She finished for him.

He simply nodded.

"That's fine. There isn't anything you _need _too say, really. Perhaps you feel like thanking me? Then I can safely tell you that there is absolutely no need. I did nothing for you. Maybe you want to apologize for ruining our friendship? Again, no point. You didn't do it – she did. Look, William, it would have been the same if it were any other man in your place. What she did was awful. I wasn't upset because it was you, but because it _wasn't her_. She was no longer the Lizzy I knew, no longer the friend whose courage, dedication, and integrity I had always admired."

She paused, and they fell into silence. He ordered another scotch. She sipped her martini. A tear rolled down her cheek. And he was appalled to realize that in his own misery he had failed to notice hers.

"What's wrong, Charlotte?" He asked softly.

She just shook her head.

"Tell me," He pleaded. "I know something is troubling you."

She opened her purse and pulled out a newspaper clipping, angrily shoving it at him.

He looked down. _"Colonel Richard Fitzwilliam to Marry Heiress Anne de Bourgh,"_ read the title of the society news story.

Fitzwilliam trembled, overcome by sudden repulsion. He could hardly wrap his mind around the words that he saw on the page before him. How could this be?

He thought back to Cancun. To the double dates they had shared – he and Lizzy, Richard and Charlotte. To the time Lizzy had to spend the night in his suite after walking in on his cousin and her friend. To the happy smile that played across Charlotte's lips back then, in such painful contrast to the bitter, dejected expression presently residing in her pale eyes.

And he felt a surge of anger at Richard. The anger that he never managed to feel towards Lizzy – because he still loved her so hopelessly. It was easier to hate his cousin, and to blame him for all the betrayal – both his, and Lizzy's.

He glanced at Charlotte, whose cheeks were now covered in thin black streaks of tears and mascara. Light sobs shook her frame. She looked so small and meek, so vulnerable now. He tenderly took her hand.

"I'm sorry, Charlotte. I didn't know."

"I d-didn't either. U-until today."

"I can't believe he would do that!"

She shook her head ruefully.

"He's an idiot, Charlotte!" Darcy cried with vigor. "A real idiot to forsake you. I can't believe he would do that."

And then, drawing comforting circles on the back of her hand, he added sincerely:

"You're a great girl, Charlotte."

His voice was soft and soothing. Unconsciously, she drew nearer. Inadvertently, his eyes fell to her lips.

"A really great girl," he murmured, and leaned down towards her.

His lips met hers, softly, probingly. Her lips parted, granting him access, urging him to proceed. He remembered fuller, softer lips, that were much less compliant – that didn't open readily, instead making him work his way into them. And yet it had only made him want them more…

He drew back suddenly, and hung his head.

"I'm sorry."

She turned away, attempting to reconcile her own feelings. There was sadness, disappointment, wistfulness, guilt, and anger. Not at William, not at herself. But rather at the tall, charming brown-haired man whom she had not seen since August.

"I… I should not have done that," William whispered. "It was wrong, all so wrong."

"Yes, it was," She agreed.

They looked again at each other and wordlessly understood. It was not only wrong, but it would _never _be right. It would never feel right for him to kiss anyone other than Lizzy. And it would never feel right for her to kiss anyone other than Richard.

Impatient to end the awkwardly painful moment, Charlotte rose to leave.

"I don't know if I can ever forgive her for what she did to you, William."

And she walked away before he had a chance to tell her that he _knew _he could never forgive his cousin.


End file.
